c 


'TWIXT   YOU  AND  ME 


'TWIXT   YOU  AND  ME 


G  race  Le  Baron 


Qauyftter  " 


Copyright,  1898, 
BY  LITTLE,  Buowx,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved. 


sttg  Press: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


DEDICATED 

TO 

ittttU  ©UES  of  grsterliag, 

HOW 

je  ILatis  anH  ILassies  of 


2227852 


PREFACE. 


T3EIXG  loth  to  cease  my  friendship  of  years 
-*^  with  THE  LITTLE  ONES  OP  YESTERDAY,  I 
have  chosen  to  continue  it  \vith  the  present 
story,  in  the  fond  hope  that  TWIXT  You  AND 
ME  may,  like  the  flowers  between  its  pages, 
speak  my  loving  message,  and  be  a  bond  to 
unite  me  a  little  longer  to  those  who  have  now 
grown  into  THE  LADS  AND  LASSIES  OF  TO-DAY. 

GRACE   LE  BAROX. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     BY  THE  SEA 17 

II.     SEA  REMINISCENCES 67 

IT!.     SCHOOL  DAYS 93 

IV.     HOLIDAY  PLEASURES 129 

V.     UNJUST  ACCUSATIONS 167 

VI.     EXONERATED 193 

VII.  AT  THE  MERCY  OF  THE  SEA       .     .     .     .  215 

VIII.     BAGLEY  HALL 239 

IX.  To    THE    MUSIC    OF    THE  WAVES    .  275 


CONCLUSION  :  SWEET  MEMORIES    .......     291 


•  •""'  •'  rv 


PAGE 


RED  ROSE     . 
WHITE   ROSE 


CHAPTER   I. 
FoRGET-Mr.-XoT,  Enduring  Memories      .       64 

CHAPTER   II. 

.      .      Tender  Thought       .      .       89 

CHAPTER   III. 
War 


PANSY 


.     .      War        } 
Sadness  ) 


126 


CHAPTER   IV. 
JAPONICA Impatience  of  Absence  .     164 

CHAPTER   V. 
MARJORAM Blushes 189 

CHAPTER  VI. 
LILY  OF  THE  VALLEY     .     Return  of  Happiness    .     212 

CHAPTER   VII. 
SWEET  PEA Departure  .....     236 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
ANEMONE Expectation    .     .     .     .     272 

CHAPTER   IX. 
POPPY Sleep 290 


"TOGETHER  THEY  RAMBLED  DAILY  OVER 

THE  MOORS " Frontispiece 

PAGE 
"'WELL,    LET     ME     SEE     NOW,'     HE     COMMENCED"          74 

"'Miss  WILDER,'  SAID  Miss  ABIGAIL"    .     .     .     120 
"BY  THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  DIMLY  BURNING  CANDLE 

SHE  WROTE  IX  HER  DIARY" 187 

"BEULAH   SAT,  AS  REQUESTED,  ON  A  LOW  FOOT- 
STOOL AT  THE  STRANGER'S  FEET  "  .  .     265 


Full-page  drawings  by  ELLEN  B.  THOMPSON. 
Floral  decorations  from  drawings  by  KATHARINE  PYLE. 


Come  walk  with  me  my  garden  path, 
A'or  wait  until  Life's  aftermath 

Shall  blight  the  lily's  stalk. 
A  nosegay  I  will  pluck  for  you, 
Of  poppies  red,  and  harebells  blue  ; 

Come.  Youth,  and  with  me  -walk. 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

9 
i. 

BY  THE   SEA. 

FORGET-ME-NOT.      ENDURING   MEMORIES. 

'T^IME,  summer,  and  the  hour,  high  noon. 
-*-  Two  girls,  with  all  the  freshness  of  youth 
and  the  budding  promise  of  womanhood  upon 
their  pretty  faces,  sit  in  the  stern  of  a  little  sail- 
boat, which  almost  defies  its  name,  so  idly  does 
it  seem  to  float  upon  the  water.  The  canvas 
sail  hardly  moves,  and  the  hot  sun,  shining  in 
the  pretty  girl-faces,  does  its  utmost  to  add  an- 
other coat  of  tan  and  sunburn  to  the  already 
browned  cheeks  of  the  two. 

The  boat  itself  is  a  crude  affair,  never,  of 
course,  to  be  dignified  with  the  pretentious  name 
of  "  yacht ; "  for  even  the  more  common  one  of 
"  sailboat "  seems  out  of  order  for  the  home- 
made-looking little  craft. 

"  Oh,  come,  girls,"  cries  their  companion,  a 
freckle-faced  boy,  who,  although  he  does  not  wear 
2  17 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

the  conventional  dress  of  a  sailor  lad,  neverthe- 
less aspires  to  impress  his  hearers  with  his 
knowledge  of  winds  and  tides.  "  Come,  I  say, 
girls,  she  '11  never  get  round  the  Point  without 
any  more  wind  than  this  !  What  shall  we  do  ? 
Turn  back,  or  go  ahead,  or  —  wait  ?" 

"  Well,"  replied  the  elder  of  the  two  girls  thus 
addressed,  "  what  a  question  to  ask  us,  Harold 
Macy !  What  do  we  know  about  a  sailboat? 
And  how  do  you  expect  to  turn  back  without  a 
wind  any  more  than  to  go  on  without  one  ?  Of 
course  we  must  wait.  Now,  if  this  was  only  a 
rowboat,  why,  Daisy  and  I  might  help  at  the 
oars,  but  —  " 

"But  it  is!"  cried  the  lad;  "and  that  is 
just  why  I  am  asking.  Come,  which  is  it  ? 
Quick !  Have  n't  I  been  about  in  this  harbor 
ever  since  I  was  old  enough  to  sit  on  the 
wharves  and  toss  a  line  to  minnows  ?  and  don't 
I  know  all  about  winds  and  tides  ?  and  don't 
you  see,  for  yourselves,  there  isn't  even  a  cat's 
paw,  and  the  tide  is  going  out  fast  ?  Quick  ! 
what  shall  we  do,  girls  ?  Shall  we  row  ? " 
And  without  heeding  an  answer,  the  sail  was 
loosened  from  its  thwart  and  tossed  into  the 
bottom  of  the  boat,  with  an  air  of  importance, 
18 


By  the  Sea. 

• —  or  rather,  unimportance  ;  the  rowlocks  were 
quickly  put  in  place;  and  —  "Presto,  change!" 
• —  a  rowboat !  and  Harold  Macy,  bending  to 
the  oars,  proved  that  a  boy  in  a  boat  is  as 
much  at  home  as  a  fish  in  the  water. 

With  the  odds  against  the  little  craft,  its 
progress,  however,  was  not  all  to  be  desired  by 
the  impatient  party  on  board. 

"  Do  hurry,  Cousin  Harold  ! "  said  Daisy 
Wilder,  the  younger  of  the  girls.  "  Why,  we 
shall  never  get  there  in  time  for  the  bathing, 
and,  see,  the  noon  boat  is  just  getting  ready  to 
start.  Oh,  do  hurry !  for  we  shall  be  right  in 
her  way." 

"  She  will  be  right  in  our  way,  you  mean," 
replied  the  lad,  in  an  indifferent  manner,  quite 
in  contrast  to  that  of  his  nervous  cousin. 
"  Little  folks  like  us  must  be  looked  out  for," 
said  he. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Daisy,  "  that  is  true ;  but  we 
ought  not  to  put  ourselves  in  her  way.  Little 
people  have  rights,  and  big  ones  too ;  and  we 
have  not  any  more  right  to  bother  the  steamer 
by  getting  in  her  course,  than  a  big  brother 
has  a  right  to  hector  his  little  sister.  Then, 
too,  if  the  steamer  should  run  us  down,  we 
19 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

could  not  argue  over  rights  much,  any\raj\ 
with  our  mouths  full  of  salt  water,  and  per- 
forming gymnastics  under  her  paddle-wheel, 
could  we  ?  —  But,  come,  row  fast.  Cousin 
Harold,  and  we  will  make  the  Point  before 
she  starts,"  said  Daisy,  in  a  coaxing  tone, 
which  had  its  effect  upon  the  boy,  for  he  bent 
with  a  will  to  his  oars. 

Soon,  rounding  the  Point,  which  the  light- 
house guarded,  the  tiny  boat  danced  up  and 
down  in  the  wake  of  the  steamer,  as  the  latter 
passed,  and  Harold  Macy,  with  a  triumphal 
air,  doffed  his  cap,  crying  out,  "  Good-bye, 
strangers  !  Good-bye,  all !  Come  fish  with  us 
next  summer  again!  Good-bye,  strangers!" 

"  Strangers  !  "  repeated  the  two  girls,  in  uni- 
son, and  in  indignation  as  well. 

"  Harold,  why  do  you  call  all  of  us  who 
come  to  this  island,  strangers?"  asked  Daisy. 
"  Just  because  we  do  not  happen  to  have  one 
of  the  dozen  names  so  common  down  here,  and 
be  alphabetically  tagged  ?  You  came  very  near 
not  having  one  yourself,  Harold  Macy ;  and 
you  would  n't,  if  your  mother's  first  husband 
had  n't  died,  and  made  a  way  for  your  father  !  " 
and  Daisy's  eyes  glistened  with  a  satisfaction 
20 


By  the  Sea. 

that,  it  is  feared,  had  its  birth  in  the  family 
discussion  over  the  well-timed  "  passing  away  " 
of  Aunt  Susan  B.'s  first  husband. 

Daisy  continued :  "  I  do  not  believe  I  am 
half  as  much  of  a  stranger  in  this  town  as  old 
Widow  —  what 's  her  name  ?  —  up  the  lane, 
there,  who  sits  and  rocks  and  knits,  day  in  and 
day  out,  and  never  goes  out  of  the  house,  but 
is  always  wondering  '  what  people  want  to  live 
up  there  for,  anyway,  where  the  land  could  be 
had  for  a  song  when  she  was  a  girl.'  Now, 
what  does  she,  or  those  like  her,  —  and  there 
are  lots  of  them,  too,  down  here,  —  know  about 
the  Cliff,  and  its  people  ? "  asked  Daisy. 

"  Yes,"  chimed  in  Rosemary  ;  "  Daisy  and  I 
know  every  square  inch  of  this  island !  Every 
cobblestone,  even.  Do  we  not,  Daisy  ? " 

"  I  should  think  so,  Rosemary,"  replied 
Daisy  ;  "  and  I  have  good  reason  to  remember 
one  cobblestone,  with  not  too  much  affection 
either,  for  tripping  me  up,  and  making  me  lose 
a  good  part  of  my  vacation  last  year ; "  and 
Daisy's  mind  wandered  in  fancy  to  her  days  of 
solitude  with  her  lame  knee,  which  had  ever 
since  carried  the  scars  of  the  battle  between 
flesh  and  stone. 

21 


Twixt  You  and   Me. 

"  Strangers  !  Strangers  !  Xo,  indeed,  Harold 
Macy  ! "  said  Daisy,  assuming  an  air  of  playful 
indignation.  "  Xo,  Thomas  Macy  and  I  were 
just  as  good  friends  as  you  and  he  ever  were ! 
He  died  before  either  of  us  was  born,  so  you 
did  n't  know  him,  neither  did  I ;  but  I  never 
heard  that  it  was  a  written  or  unwritten  law 
which  said  I  should  not  make  this  my  home, 
especially  when  my  father  pays  taxes  here. 
Is  n't  home  where  you  pay  your  taxes  ?  and 
this  is  one  of  my  homes,  just  as  much  as  it  is 
yours,  Harold  Macy,  and  I  love  it !  Yes,  I  love 
this  place,  —  better  than  you  do,  I  believe, 
too  ! " 

The  boy  rested  on  his  oars,  and,  after  a 
momentary  look  of  indignation  excited  by 
Daisy's  argument,  resumed  his  rowing,  saying 
meditatively,  "  Well,  perhaps  you  do,  Cousin 
Daisy.  But  you  have  not  trudged  these  streets 
and  no  other,  as  I  have,  always.  Sixteen  years 
is  a  long-enough  stay  in  any  place  for  me." 

"  Xo,  I  have  not,  I  know,"  replied  Daisy ; 
"  but  when  I  have,  I  shall  be  so  fond  of  these 
little  crooked  lanes  and  moss-grown  cobble- 
stones that  even  that  evil  genius  that  disputed 
with  me  so  forcibly  will  be  forgiven,  and  become 
22 


By  the  Sea. 

as  precious  as  a  nugget  of  gold !  Many  a  night 
I  go  to  bed  in  the  winter,  and  I  fancy  I  hear  the 
waves  plashing  and  dashing  on  the  beach  ;  and 
their  music  seems  to  soothe  me  off  to  sleep,  with 
their  '  lullaby  —lullaby.'  " 

The  boy  looked  up  again  from  his  oars,  long 
enough  to  say,  "  Lullaby  !  Humph !  I  just  wish 
that  I  could  get  where  they  don't  sing  lullabies, 
Daisy,  —  in  the  city,  where  you  need  n't  sleep  if 
you  don't  want  to." 

"  That  is  it,  you  see,  Harold.  Now,  you  just 
want  to  turn  your  back  upon  a  friend,  and  I  am 
satisfied  to  put  my  arms  right  around  this  little 
stranger  and  stay  forever  on  this  island.  Now 
which  of  us  really  loves  it  the  most,  do  you 
think,  — you,  or  Rosemary  and  I  ?  So  don't  you 
ever  let  me  hear  you  call  either  of  us '  Stranger ; ' 
for  if  you  do,  I  will  never  own  you  as  a  cousin, 
even  by  marriage  ! "  replied  Daisy,  in  a  most 
determined  manner ;  and  with  this  convincing 
argument  the  discussion  ended,  —  a  discussion 
that  at  times  seemed  to  have  a  stronger  flavor 
of  a  children's  petty  quarrel  than  of  a  dignified 
assertion  of  equal  rights. 

Rosemary  McBurnie  and  Daisy  Wilder  were 
friends  of  many  summers.  Their  winter  friend- 
23 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

ship,  like  the  snowdrops,  which  hide  their  pretty 
heads  under  the  snow  only  to  fulfil  their  annual 
promises,  rested  peaceably  in  their  young  hearts, 
until  the  time  when  the  cottagers  on  the  beach 
took  down  the  shutters,  that  had  defied  the 
winter's  storms,  and  the  summer  homes  of  the 
McBurnies  and  Wilders  smiled  again  in  the 
harmony  of  happy  friendships  in  the  summer 
sunlight.  And  again  and  again  the  two  girls 
renewed  their  friendship,  too,  —  none  the  less 
sincere  because  of  the  long  silence,  and  always 
with  the  mutual  question,  "  Why  did  you  not 
write  to  me  last  winter  ?  "  and  each  had  always 
the  same  reason  to  give,  of  "  good  intentions 
unfulfilled." 

The  two  girls  were  quite  unlike  in  disposition. 
Rosemary  had  a  sweet  dignity,  almost  unnatural 
to  youth,  and  seemed  to  live  in  an  atmosphere 
which  Daisy  always  said  belonged  to  "  cloud- 
land,  where  the  angels  live."  And  Daisy ! 
Daisy  was  the  same  little  mischief,  even  in  her 
teens,  that  she  had  ever  been,  since  the  tim^ 
when,  as  children,  the  two  had  indulged  in  the 
pastime  of  brewing  and  baking  that  delectable 
morsel  of  childhood's  days,  —  the  mud-pie ! 
Then  it  was  that  Daisy  would  upset  Rosemary's, 
24 


By  the  Sea. 

and,  with  a  merry  laugh,  run  away  as  fast  as  her 
little  feet  could  trudge  through  the  heavy  sand 
on  the  beach,  leaving  Rosemary  to  quietly  refill 
the  pretty  escallop  shells  which  old  Ocean 
brought  to  her  feet,  and  to  make  her  choice  of 
mosses  for  their  garnishing. 

Happy  days  those  were  for  them  both  !  Happy 
days  were  still  theirs ;  and  the  two  loved  with  a 
love  too  sincere  for  anything  but  complete  trust, 
and  too  ardent  for  the  encroachment  of  petty 
jealousies.  Rosemary's  dignity  often  regulated 
Daisy's  natural  roguishness,  and  a  look  on  the 
former's  face  often  called  a  halt  to  the  latter's 
over-exuberance  of  spirit.  In  fact,  it  was  just 
such  a  look  from  Rosemary  that  made  Daisy 
give  up  her  discussion  with  her  cousin  over  her 
rights,  just  as  the  steamer  went  far  out  of  sight 
with  its  deck-load  of  passengers,  who  never 
would  know  what  a  loyal  champion  they  had  in 
the  Boston  girl,  Daisy  Wilder. 

Rosemary  McBurnie  had  been  a  silent  listener 
to  the  discussion,  — -  since  it  had  really  fallen 
into  a  discussion,  —  and  sat  looking  out  over  the 
water  in  dreamy  mood.  She  watched  the  out- 
going tide  with  a  double  interest,  because  of  the 
bathing  in  anticipation,  and  the  home-coming  ; 
25 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

both  of  which  would,  of  course,  be  influenced  by 
the  laws  governing  tides  and  winds ;  then  ven- 
tured the  question,  "  Do  you  think  that  we  shall 
ever  get  to  the  Cliff  in  time  for  the  bathing, 
Harold?"  Again,  getting  bolder,  she  asked, 
"  Will  you  let  me  help  you  row  ?  Oh,  I  know 
how  to  row,  —  perhaps  not  a  Harvard  or  a 
Wellesley  stroke  ;  but  do  let  me  try,  will  you, 
Harold  ?  " 

And  Harold  Macy,  too  proud  to  allow  that  his 
strength  was  in  the  least  taxed,  willingly  resigned 
one  of  the  oars  to  the  young  girl,  who  surprised 
the  freckle-faced  lad  by  her  aptness  and  skill  at 
rowing ;  and  the  little  boat  soon  reached  its 
destination,  —  the  bathing  shore. 

Harold  Macy,  with  the  air  of  a  gallant,  as  be- 
fitted the  amateur  captain  of  the  "  Undine," 
pulled  the  boat  a  little  nearer  to  the  sands,  and 
Rosemary  and  Daisy  jumped  from  the  bow,  with 
an  agility  as  effectual  as  if  learned  on  a  ship's 
deck  and  rigging,  instead  of  within  the  four 
walls  of  a  city  gymnasium.  Rosemary,  with  the 
air  of  an  elder  sister,  drew  her  companion's  hand 
through  her  arm,  and,  with  the  bathing  pavilion 
as  their  Mecca,  Daisy  and  she  hurried  their  steps 
over  the  sandy  beach. 

26 


By  the  Sea. 

"  Only  think,"  said  Daisy,  "  this  is  to  be  my 
last  visit  to  the  Cliff  this  year ;  and  I  must  say 
good-bye  to  it  this  morning." 

"  Why,  Daisy,  what  do  you  mean  ? "  asked 
Rosemary,  in  astonishment,  and  the  least  touch 
of  sadness  in  her  voice. 

"  Did  not  mamma  tell  you  that  we  go  away  on 
Saturday  ?  and  to-morrow  will  be  my  busy  day." 
And  as  Daisy  said  this,  her  usual  merry  laugh 
seemed  to  echo  a  minor  sound  at  the  prospect  of 
leaving  her  holiday  home  and  friends.  "  Yes," 
she  added,  after  a  pause ;  "  we  had  a  letter  by 
last  night's  boat,  saying  that  Uncle  Willard  and 
Aunt  Frances  will  sail  for  Europe  next  week, 
and  mamma  says  that  she  must  be  at  home 
before  they  go.  We  were  going  away  earlier 
than  usual  this  year,  anyway,  because  I  am  going 
somewhere  to  boarding-school."  As  Daisy  said 
these  words,  her  face  assumed  an  unusually 
serious  look.  "Just  think  of  it,  —  going  away 
from  home  to  school!"  she  said.  "Oh,  dear! 
why  must  I  go  to  boarding-school,  I  wonder  ? 
Every  girl  does  not  have  to  go  away  to  school. 
Oh,  dear !  why  must  I  go  to  school,  anyway,  when 
so  many  stand  ready  to  take  my  place  ?  I  know 
that  I  shall  be  the  King's  jester  of  the  class. 
27  y 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

But  here  we  are  now.  Adieu,  Rosemary,  until 
we  meet  at  the  fifth  wave  out  by  the  jetty."  And 
the  two  friends  parted  from  each  other  to  pre- 
pare for  their  swim,  and  later  emerged  to  join 
in  a  race  for  the  water's  edge,  where,  with  a 
"  One,  two,  three,"  they  flung  themselves  into 
the  waves,  and  were  soon  disporting  themselves 
as  mermaids,  rather  than  mortals. 

Yes,  it  was  all  too  true.  Daisy  Wilder  was  to 
become  a  student,  or  to  try  to  become  one ;  and  the 
possibilities  of  her  success  lay  in  her  own  con- 
fession,—  that  the  privilege  was  not  a  privilege, 
but  a  punishment.  Books  she  had  little  respect 
for,  and  no  love  whatever  for  such  "  time- 
killers,"  as  she  called  them.  They  were  not  to 
her,  as  to  many,  her  dearest  companions,  but 
only  to  be  cultivated  when  a  rainy  day  deprived 
her  of  other  friendships,  better  suited  to  her 
choice. 

"  No,"  she  would  often  say,  "  I  am  not  a 
really  and  truly  Bostonian  ;  for  I  don't  wear  blue 
glasses,  and  I  don't  love  books,  —  and  blue 
stockings  almost  always  crock !  I  love  every- 
thing that  God  made,  and  man  made  books.  I 
love  the  birds  and  the  flowers  and  the  ocean." 

What,  then,  is  to  be  expected  of  a  student  like 
28 


By  the  Sea. 

Daisy  Wilder,  to  whom  Greek  must  indeed  be  a 
"  dead  language,"  and  Mathematics  an  "  un- 
known quantity  "  ? 

Rosemary  McBurnie,  on  the  contrary,  was,  as 
her  mother  often  said,  "  all  books."  With  high- 
est honors  she  had  graduated  from  her  several 
classes,  and  the  diplomas  that  hung  in  their 
pretty  frames  about  her  room  in  the  McBurnies' 
home  in  the  city  represented  not  only  honors  to 
her,  but  recalled  to  her,  as  well,  happy  days  of 
study  and  close  companionship  with  her  books. 
At  the  close  of  the  holidays  Rosemary,  too,  was 
to  resume  her  friendships  with  such  friends  as 
the  blind  poet  Milton,  and  those  others  —  Paul 
and  Virginia  —  speaking  to  her  in  a  foreign  lan- 
guage. So  it  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that 
she  could  fully  sympathize  with  Daisy  in  the 
latter's  fancied  misfortune. 

But,  despite  this  difference  in  taste  and  opin- 
ion of  books,  the  two  girls  had  much  in  common 
for  enjoyment.  Flowers  spoke  to  them  both, 
in  the  same  loving  language  of  fragrance  and 
beauty.  The  ocean,  whether  at  peace  or  toss- 
ing its  white  caps  upon  the  sands  in  deafening 
roar,  appealed  to  them  both,  in  its  magnificence, 
as  a  messenger  from  God,  to  be  heeded,  to  be 
29  > 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

feared,  and,  above  all,  to  be  loved.  Together, 
they  rambled  daily  over  the  moors  of  the  island, 
—  now  gathering  the  flora  in  its  brilliancy  of 
many  colors ;  now  resting  on  the  flowered  car- 
pet spread  under  their  feet,  to  learn  from 
"  Gray's  Botany"  any  information  about  the  blue 
heather,  or  the  pretty  blossoms  of  the  gerardia. 

Long  before  their  annual  arrival  at  their  sum- 
mer home,  explicit  directions  always  preceded 
them,  to  Sam  Meader,  a  quondam  sailor  (who 
had  since  been  a  general-utility  landsman), 
telling  him  to  bring  out  from  its  winter  hiding- 
place  the  red  rowboat,  which  had  for  many 
summers  served  as  a  memory,  and  a  pretty 
flower-garden  for  the  two  girls. 

Alas  !  once  this  same  little  boat  had  started 
out  one  summer  afternoon,  full  of  happiness, 
•with  Guy  McBurnie  as  its  boy  captain,  and 
when  it  was  found  the  next  day,  beached  high 
and  dry  in  the  tall  rushes,  it  was  "  mustered  out 
of  service,"  as  was  its  boy  captain  ;  and  at  last 
the  mother's  heart  yielded  to  the  children's 
importunings,  and  so  it  had  stood  ever  since  be- 
tween the  two  cottages,  —  an  ever-present  bond 
of  sympathy  between  the  two  families,  and  a 
floral  memory  to  the  loved  but  venturesome  boy. 
30 


By  the  Sea. 

It  was  this  same  mutual  fondness  for  flowers 
that  led  up  to  the  girls'  conversation  on  their 
homeward  way ;  for,  leaving  the  beach  with  its 
idle  loungers  behind  tbem ;  leaving  the  ocean  in 
the  possession  of  its  bevy  of  bathers,  —  yes, 
even  leaving  the  "  Undine "  in  its  ill-befitting 
and  humiliating  place  on  shore,  —  they  readily 
accepted  Harold  Macy's  proposition,  to  "  let  the 
boat  stay  there  until  the  tide  should  come  in, 
and  walk  home,  up  over  the  Cliff  road  ; "  and 
Rosemary  and  Daisy  started  along,  with  Harold 
following  in  the  rear. 

Said  Rosemary,  "  The  summer  will  seem  so 
short  with  you  gone,  Daisy." 

"  And  the  winter  will  seem  so  long,  will  it 
not,  Rosemary,  away  from  home  and  you  ? " 
returned  Daisy,  with  a  sigh.  "  You  may  think 
of  me,  —  up  to  pranks,  instead  of  books,  though. 
I  wonder  who  will  be  my  room-mate.  Suppose 
she  should  be  some  girl  like  Beulah  Scilley ! 
Dear  me !  she  will  think  that  I  ought  to  be 
expelled  before  a  week  is  out ; "  and  Daisy 
laughed  heartily,  as  if  such  a  future  had  no 
terrors,  nevertheless. 

"  But,  of  course,"  said  Rosemary,  in  gentle 
rebuke  at  Daisy's  threatened  insubordination, — 
31 


Twixt  You  and   Me. 

'•  of  course  you  will  want  to  study,  and  not  lay 
yourself  liable  to  such  disgrace  as  that." 

"  Disgrace  !  "  repeated  Daisy  ;  "  why  must  it 
always  be  thought  a  disgrace  for  a  girl  to  have 
all  the  fun  she  can  in  the  world  ?  "Why,  the 
only  reason  I  am  reconciled  to  going  away  at 
all  is  because  everybody  says  that  girls  have 
awfully  nice  times  at  a  boarding-school!"  and 
Daisy  Wilder  looked  as  if  she  was  beyond  rea- 
soning with  ;  but  the  mischief  in  her  face  that 
emphasized  her  reckless  speech  could  not  deter 
Rosemary  from  saying, — 

-  Well,  Daisy,  you  know,  wherever  we  go  to 
school,  we  go  to  learn." 

k-  Yes,  you  do,  I  know,  Rosemary,"  said  Daisy, 
u  but  you  and  I  are  not  a  bit  alike ;  but  I  love 
you  just  the  same,  dearie  ! "  and  the  impulsive 
Daisy  showed  that  her  heart  was  not  quite  given 
over,  as  she  would  have  others  believe,  to  folly. 
Forgetting  the  wet  bathing-suit  which  she  held 
by  a  shawl-strap,  oblivious  to  her  cousin  Harold's 
presence,  she  threw  her  arms  around  Rosemary's 
neck  in  close  embrace,  and  kissed  her  fondly. 
"  Now,  Rosemary,"  said  Daisy,  "  you  will  write 
to  me  this  winter,  won't  you  ?  Think  of  me  in 
my  loneliness,  with  no  companion  but  a  Beulah 
32 


By  the  Sea. 

Scilley  to  confide  in.  Send  me  a  word  now  and 
then,  or  even  a  little  flower,  to  tell  me  what  you 
are  doing,  and  that  you  still  keep  on  loving  me." 

"  That  is  just  what  1  will  do,  Daisy,"  replied 
Rosemary.  "  Yes,  I  will  send  you  a  flower,  and 
you  must  answer  me  by  the  same  kind  of  a  mes- 
senger —  remember." 

"  Agreed  !  "  said  Daisy.  "  We  will  talk  noth- 
ing but  sweet  words  for  the  next  six  months ; 
but,  oh,  dear  !  what  shall  I  send  to  tell  you  that 
I  am  in  disgrace,  Rosemary  ?"  and  Daisy's  face 
seemed  to  forebode  mischief. 

"  Oh,  some  little  faded  flower,"  replied  Rose- 
mary. 

"  Yes,"  said  Daisy,  and  she  stooped  to  gather 
a  bit  of  marjoram  from  a  neighbor's  garden ; 
"  1  will  send  you  this.  Had  I  best  put  it  to  press 
now  in  anticipation  ?  It  means  blushes,  and, 
however  mischievous  I  am,  1  shall  blush  to  have 
to  send  such  a  messenger  to  you  of  all  others,  if 
the  time  comes  for  it."  And  Daisy  closed  the 
flower  in  the  leaves  of  the  book  she  carried. 

Thus  the   young  girls  talked  on,  seemingly 

forgetful    of  their   boy  companion  in  the  rear, 

who,  feeling  himself  already  out  of  place  in  such 

confidences,  was  only  too  glad  to  be  joined  by 

3  33 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

one  of  his  schoolmates ;  and  the  two  boys  started 
back  to  the  beach  "  to  whistle  for  a  breeze,"  with 
which  to  pilot  the  "  Undine  "  back  to  town.  The 
last  heard  of  them  by  the  girls,  Harold  was  say- 
ing to  Richard  Bunker,  "  Girls  are  funny  things, 
Dick.  Always  seem  to  have  so  much  of  import- 
ance going  on  :  getting  their  heads  together  like 
Siamese  twins,  and  whispering  and  giggling,  as 
if  they  were  half  silly.  I  am  glad  that  I  am  not 
a  girl.  Boys  suit  me  better,  Dick." 

"  Are  you  going  to  Susan  Coffin's  lookout 
party  this  afternoon,  Daisy  ?"  asked  Rosemary, 
as  they  neared  home. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Daisy ;  "  this  is  my  last 
holiday  for  a  whole  year,  perhaps,  for  soon  I 
must  work,  work,  work."  And  Daisy  made  an 
effort  to  look  solemn  over  the  prospect,  but  the 
merry  twinkle  in  her  eye  and  the  bewitching 
smile  on  her  roguish  face  asserted  themselves, 
as  the  words  fell  from  her  rosy  lips. 

With  a  mutual  "  Good-bye ;  I  will  meet  you 
on  the  lookout,"  the  girls  parted. 

The   lookout !     When   first  the   little   island 

town   began   to   be   heralded   as   a  fashionable 

summer  resort,  old  heads  nodded  disapproval, 

but  young  hearts  beat  high  at  the  prospect  of 

34 


By  the  Sea. 

new  interests  that  would  be  infused  into  their 
summer  life. 

"  That  ever  I  should  live  to  see  an  engine 
running  through  our  streets !  "  said  Mrs.  Sarah 
Valentine,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh,  that  might 
have  easily  been  interpreted  into  a  bemoaning 
over  the  disastrous  fate  that  threatened  her 
island  home. 

"  When  d  id  you  ever  see  one  running,  mother  ? " 
asked  her  daughter  Phosbe  Ann,  who  was  oftener 
called  Phrebe  A.  by  her  relatives  and  friends. 
"  I  am  sure  it  is  very  moderate  in  its  pace,  — 
and  such  an  accommodation  to  every  one  !  Why, 
only  the  other  day  Joe  Wilkins  was  driving  his 
cows  home,  and  the  train  waited  until  every  one 
of  them  not  only  passed,  but  even  waited  for 
two  or  three  to  nibble  the  caraway  tops  be- 
tween the  tracks." 

"  Well,  well,  Phoebe,  something  will  come  of 
all  such  innovations.  You  will  hear  of  some 
terrible  accident  some  day  happening  from  that 
same  accommodating  engine,"  said  Mrs.  Valen- 
tine, in  a  tone  of  irony,  and  indicating  that 
her  prophecy  was  even  then  nearing  fulfilment. 
"  No,  I  am  quite  satisfied  to  jog  on  to  the  end 
of  the  journey  after  old  Jack,  provided,  of  course, 
35 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

that  he  does  not  get  run  over  by  your  accommo- 
dation train  before  then.  No,  this  place  never 
was  intended  for  a  fashion  resort,  Phoebe." 

"  Perhaps  not,  mother,"  said  Phoebe  ;  "  but  it 
will  always  be  a  health  resort ;  and  I  say  '  Open 
sesame,'  to  all  the  broken-down  nerves.  '  We 
will  share  our  ozone  with  you.  Come  and  bathe 
in  our  waters  of  Babylon.' ' 

"  That  is  all  very  well,  Phcebe,  if  it  was  only 
the  sick  that  came  down  here ;  but  the  town  is 
just  being  besieged  by  a  lot  of  strangers,  who 
almost  walk  into  your  very  kitchen  to  ask  if 
your  stew-pan  once  belonged  to  Bartholomew 
Gosnold,  or  your  grandmother.  Why,  only 
the  other  day,  two  ladies — well-dressed  ladies, 
mind  you !  —  came  to  see  if  I  would  sell  the 
brass  knocker  on  our  front  door.  The  z'-dea! 
They  '  liked  it  so  much,'  they  said.  So  did  I ! 
and  I  told  them  so,  too,  and  that  no  money  could 
buy  it  from  me,  for  it  was  sacred  to  me,  because 
of  the  hands  of  angels  that  had  clasped  it.  You 
should  have  seen  them,  Phoebe.  They  looked  at 
me  as  if  they  feared  I  was  a  Salem  witch  or  a 
Spiritualist  medium,  or  some  kind  of  an  hypno- 
tist, and  they  would  come  under  the  spell.  The 
last  I  heard  of  them,  one  said  to  the  other, 
36 


By  the  Sea. 

*  What  an  impudent  old  woman  she  was  ! '  Now 
I  ask  you,  Phrebe,  which  was  the  saucier,  they 
or  I  ?  Were  they  in  search  of  health,  think 
you  ?  No,  they  were  looking  after  antiquities, 
for  some  new  Colonial  house,  probably ;  and 
these  lovers  of  antiques  forget  their  manners 
sometimes.  And  I  don't  pity  the  Hon.  Mrs. 
Newrich  if  she  did  get  cheated,  and  paid  a  fool- 
ish price  for  a  piece  of  willow  ware  that  she  could 
buy  in  any  china  store  for  a  song ;  but  after  I  'm 
dead,  Phoebe,  whoever  takes  that  knocker  off 
that  door  will  be  obliged  to  wear  it  hung  around 
his  or  her  neck,  night  and  day,  that  it  may  call 
attention  to  their  foolishness,  for  not  letting 
things  stay  where  they  belong,  —  at  least,  I  am 
going  to  make  a  codicil  in  my  will  to  that  effect. 
So,  hands  off !  Phoebe,  unless  you  want  to  go 
around  like  Dan  Pitman's  vicious  cow,  with  a 
yoke  about  your  neck  marked  '  of-ficious ! ' ' 

"  Oh,  mother  dear,"  replied  Phoebe,  "  have  n't 
I  always  respected  your  wishes  ?  And  should 
that  terrible  hour  of  loneliness  come  to  me,  even 
your  slightest  request  would  be  to  me  sacred, 
be  sure  of  that!" 

"  Yes,  I  know,  daughter,  I  can  trust  you," 
replied  Mrs.  Valentine ;  "  and  J  promise  you  that 
37 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

I  won't  add  the  codicil,  if  only  to  show  my  con- 
fidence in  you.  But,"  continued  she,  "  I  was 
talking  about  fashion's  ways,  and  I  notice  that 
some  are  falling  into  them  so  fast  down  here 
that  I  could  not  keep  up  in  the  race  if  I  wanted 
to.  It  is  getting  to  be  very  easy  to  talk  about 
lawn  parties,  and  such  like  fol-de-rol.  Bless  me  ! 
where  are  there  any  lawns  on  this  island,  out- 
side of  that  in  front  of  the  old  North  Church,  I 
ask  you  ?  Look  out  that  window,  Phoebe,  and 
see  if  that  beautiful  beach,  and  that  pretty,  pic- 
turesque little  harbor,  are  not  quite  enough  to 
be  proud  of,  without  trying  to  make  out  of  a 
little  back  yard  covered  with  burdock  leaves  a 
fashionable,  up-to-date  lawn.  And,  by  the  way, 
is  not  this  the  day  fixed  for  Mrs.  Coffin's  look- 
out party,  Phoebe-Ann  ?  " 

"  Yes  mother,"  replied  Phoebe.  "  It  is  to  be 
this  afternoon  at  three  o'clock.  Will  you  go  ?" 

"  Lookout  party  !  "  said  Mrs.  Valentine,  in 
disdainful  sarcasm.  "  In  my  day,  we  called 
them  '  walks.' " 

"  Walks,"  repeated  Phoebe.  "  Why,  I  think 
'  lookout '  is  one  improvement  of  fashion,  to  say 
the  least,  for  surely  '  lookout '  is  much  more  ap- 
propriate ;  for  is  not  there  everything  to  see  as 
38 


By  the  Sea. 

you  walk  ? "  and  the  mother's  pride  reflected 
itself  in  Phoebe's  radiant  face.  Pride  in  the 
same  picturesque  harbor ;  pride  in  the  long 
stretch  of  sandy  beach  beyond,  where  sometimes 
the  ocean  laid  undue  claim  when  the  great 
storms  came  ;  and,  more  especially,  pride  in  the 
little  town  itself,  which,  on  the  landscape,  looked 
like  a  white  city  of  rest. 

"  But  tell  me,  mother  dear,"  asked  Phoebe, 
"  did  you  watch  for  father's  ships  up  on  our  walk  ? 
and  how  did  you  feel  when  you  saw  them  off  the 
bar  ?  Did  n't  you  feel  like  singing,  — 

"  Oh  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove  !  " 

but  there,  mother  dear,"  said  Phoebe,  as  she 
heard  a  significant  sigh  from  the  former,"  it  was 
thoughtless  in  me  ;  I  forgot  that  last  night's- 
watch-on-the-walk  of  yours.  Forgive  me,  mother 
dear,  and  let  us  talk  of  something  else.  What 
shall  it  be  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  Mrs.  Valentine,  "  I  wish  to  tell 
you  the  story,  for  I  have  long  wanted  to  do  so  ; 
so  that  when  others  ask  you  if  your  father  was 
a  sailor,  you  can  answer  with  truth,  that  he  was, 
and  a  brave  one,  too.  Each  year  of  late,  I  have 
wanted  to  tell  you  of  my  last  night-on-the-walk." 
39 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

As  the  words  fell  slowly  from  the  woman's 
lips,  only  a  faint  idea  could  be  gained  of  the 
struggle  that  was  going  on  in  her  heart,  for  she 
had  nerved  herself  up  for  the  recitation  of  the 
sad  chapter  in  her  story  of  life,  and  determina- 
tion was  apparent. 

Phoebe  sat  beside  her  mother,  and  as  each 
detail  of  the  story  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  latter, 
a  tighter  clasp  of  the  hand  was  the  one  telegraph 
sign  of  sympathy  between  the  mother  and 
daughter. 

"  Yes,  Phoebe,"  began  Mrs.  Valentine  ;  "  sea 
captains  and  sailors  are  not  mere  automatons  to 
handle  a  ship's  crew  or  a  marlinspike.  They 
are  heroes,  the  bravest  of  brave  men  !  —  But  let 
me  commence. 

"  It  was  to  be  your  father's  third  voyage,  and 
he  had  been  a  landsman  for  almost  three  years, 
—  a  long  time  for  a  sailor  on  shore, —  and  I 
quite  agreed  with  him,  it  would  be  an  honor  to 
go  out  in  command  of  a  great  whaling  ship  like 
the  '  Leviathan.'  (Ah,  there  were  many  such 
went  out  from  this  harbor  then  !  and  a  girl  who 
had  not  a  sailor  lover  in  those  days  was  looked 
upon  almost  as  an  object  of  pity.) 

"  Well,  one  morning  in  early  September,  your 
40 


By  the  Sea. 

father  came  in  here,  —  yes,  here,  into  this  very 
room  where  we  are  sitting  now,  Phoebe,  —  only 
you  and  I ;  only  the  two  of  us,  just  as  to-day  ; " 
and  Mrs.  Valentine  for  the  moment  seemed  lost 
in  reminiscence,  then  continued,  "  But  you, 
Phoebe,  —  you  were  a  wee  one  then,  and  the 
fever  was  on  you ;  and  when  I  heard  your 
father's  firm  step  in  the  hall,  my  silent  prayer 
of  thanks  to  God  went  up,  that  he  was  at 
home  to  bear  the  burden  of  anxious  days  and 
sleepless  nights  with  me,  for,  I  thought,  how 
ever  could  I  bear  it  alone  and  you  so  frail  and 
helpless ! 

"  But  no  sooner  had  I  taken  this  comfort  to 
my  heart,  than  your  father  said,  '  Well,  mother, 
and  how  is  little  Phoebe,  do  you  think  ?  Did 
the  doctor  say  the  crisis  was  passed  ? '  he 
asked  ;  and  he  bent  over  your  little  face,  hidden 
deep  in  my  arms, — for  I  had  held  you  all 
through  the  long  nights,  as  well  as  days. 

"  '  Yes,  father/  I  said  ;  '  the  doctor  thinks 
that  now,  with  good  nursing  and  constant 
watching,  baby  will  live  and  grow  up  to  be  a 
comfort  in  our  old  age  ; '  and,  thanks  be  to 
God,  Phoebe ! "  said  Mrs.  Valentine,  as  she 
looked  with  pride  into  the  face  of  the  womanly 
41 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

woman  by  her  side,  "  you  have  lived  all  these 
years,  and  for  almost  forty  years  you  have  been 
my  only  comfort." 

Another  tighter  clasp  of  the  two  hands,  and 
Mrs.  Valentine  continued,  "  '  Well,  wife,'  said 
your  father, '  I  have  a  surprise  for  you  !  Be  pre- 
pared. What  do  you  think  could  be  the  best 
thing  to  happen,  now  that  baby  is  getting 
better  ? ' 

"  I  thought  a  minute,  daughter,  or  seemed  as 
if  thinking,  for  I  knew  well  what  was  coming, 
and  only  stole  the  minute  to  gain  time  for  my 
answer  ;  but  my  pulse  quickened,  and  I  thought 
my  heart  would  tire  out  and  stop  from  palpita- 
tion, it  throbbed  so.  Then  I  replied  as  coura- 
geously as  1  knew  how  (oh,  we  women  on  this 
island  in  those  days  had  to  be  steeled  to  brave 
words  and  deeds !),  '  Why,  the  best  thing  that 
could  happen  to  you,  husband,  is  to  have  a  ship 
to  command,  of  course ! ' 

"  '  Yes,  wife,'  replied  he.  '  The  owners  of 
the  "  Leviathan  "  have  asked  me  to  command 
her ;  and  you  shall  be  known  no  more  as  a  first 
mate's  wife,  but  as  Mrs.  Valentine,  the  wife  of 
Captain  Valentine,  in  command  of  one  of  the 
greatest  whaling  ships  that  ever  sailed  out  of 
42 


By  the  Sea. 

this  harbor.  So  cheer  up,  Sarah  ;  cheer  up, 
and  think  what  glory  it  will  be  to  come  home 
with  two  thousand  and  more  barrels  of  sperm 
oil.  Won't  that  be  oil  on  the  troubled 
waters  ? '  he  asked,  and  his  face  seemed  to 
grow  radiant  at  the  prospect. 

"  Ah,  the  '  troubled  waters  '  of  my  soul  needed 
other  solace  ;  but  I  could  not  dash  such  hopes 
and  such  prospects  indifferently  aside,  and  so, 
when  the  '  Leviathan  '  sailed  out  one  morning 
from  this  harbor,  you  and  I,  Phrebe,  went  down 
to  the  shore  to  see  the  great  whaling  ship  start 
out  on  her  last  voyage,  and  it  was  your  little 
hand  that  tossed  the  last  kiss  to  him,  who  — 
never  —  came  —  back." 

A  sigh,  and  another  significant  tighter  clasp 
of  the  hands ! 

"  Well,"  continued  Mrs.  Valentine,  "  father 
and  mother  took  us  right  over  to  their  house 
that  very  day,  and  there  we  stayed  for  a  while  ; 
and  then — then  we  came  back  here,  Phoabe, 
and  here  we  have  lived  alone,  ever  since." 

"Not  alone,  mother,"  interrupted  Phoebe; 
"  for  somehow,  when  I  look  up  at  that  old- 
fashioned  portrait  on  the  wall,  and  look  into 
father's  dear  face,  I  sometimes  think  that  he 
43 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

is  here  with  us,  in  spirit,  at  least.  But  go  on, 
mother  dear,  I  must  hear  it  all;  and  then  we 
will  never  speak  of  it  again,  if  it  pains  you." 

"  My  daughter,"  replied  the  widow,  "  I  have 
wanted  to  tell  you  this  for  a  long,  long  time. 
It  is  your  right  to  hear  of  your  father's  bravery, 
from  —  an  eye-witness."'  As  these  last  words 
fell  slowly  from  the  mother's  lips,  it  seemed  as 
if  a  new  inspiration  came  with  the  memory  of 
that  last  night-on-thc-walk. 

"  Well,"  she  continued,  "  one  year,  two  years 
-  yes,  three  years  —  went  by,  and  news  came 
sparingly.  Now,  it  would  be  by  some  ship  who 
had  spoken  the  '  Leviathan '  off  in  the  deep 
waters ;  but  I  was  grateful  for  news  of  his 
safety.  Again,  it  would  be  from  the  columns 
of  some  daily  paper,  telling  of  the  number  of 
barrels  of  oil  already  in  her  cargo.  For  that, 
too,  I  was  grateful ;  for  then  I  knew  of  his  suc- 
cess and  safety,  too.  Then,  when  letters  came 
in  your  father's  familiar  handwriting,  even 
though  there  was  the  doubt  of  months  be- 
tween the  writing  and  my  receipt  of  them,  then 
I  was  happy  ;  and,  Phoebe,  although  you  were 
too  young  to  understand  much  that  he  wrote, 
I  always  went  into  our  bedroom,  and  closed  the 
44 


By  the  Sea. 

door  behind  me,  as  if  the  moment  was  too 
sacred  for  intruders.  (Oh,  I  know  sailors'  wives 
were  not  supposed  to  be  romantic !  but  —  were 
we  not  schooled  in  romance  ?) 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  Mrs.  Valentine,  "  I 
would  shut  myself  up  in  that  room  alone  with 
you,  and  his  silent  presence  ;  and  as  I  held  you 
in  my  lap,  I  would  read  aloud  his  words  to  you, 
Phoebe,  and  your  great  blue  eyes  would  open 
wider  and  wider  in  astonishment  as  I  read,  as 
if  wondering  what  a  father  was" ;  and  when  the 
big  kiss  at  the  end  was  marked  in  love's 
hieroglyphics,  I  would  give  it  to  you,  and  you 
would  say  in  your  baby  talk,  and  pinch  my 
cheeks  to  give  me  a  sailor's  kiss, '  Send  'is  one 
to  papa,  by  the  wind,  mamma.' 

"  Alas,  I  never  told  you  that  I  did  not  know 
what  wind  to  send  it  by,  for  all  winds,  both  foul 
and  fair,  blew  over  the  '  Leviathan's '  decks. 

"  Well,  at  last,  news  came  that  the  '  Levia- 
than '  was  on  her  homeward  way.  It  had  been 
almost  three  years  and  a  half  since  she  sailed  so 
proudly  out  of  our  quiet  harbor,  with  the 
'  bravos '  of  the  townspeople,  and  their  '  God 
speed '  as  a  blessing.  You  were  still  little  else 
than  a  baby,  Phosbe,  trotting  about  the  house, 
45 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

and  prattling  in  your  baby  way  about  your  '  new 
papa  '  that  was  '  coming  way  —  way  —  over  the 
water  ; '  but  you  were  then,  as  now,  my  comfort 
in  my  loneliness. 

"  It  was  the  middle  of  March.  All  night  long 
the  winds  shook  our  little  home,  here,  with  the 
fury  of  the  gale.  I  could  hear  the  ocean  waves 
beating  mercilessly  on  shore.  The  fish-houses 
and  the  time-worn  wharves  were  only  sweet 
morsels  for  the  hungry  waters  to  feed  upon. 

"  I  could  not  'sleep,  so  I  dressed  me,  ready  for 
any  emergency  that  might  come,  I  thought ;  but 
was  I  quite  ready  ?  You  shall  decide,  Phoebe, 
when  you  have  heard  of  my  night-on-the-walk, — 
my  last  one,  for  I  have  never  placed  my  foot 
upon  its  sacred  boards,  since. 

"  I  could  not  sleep,  as  I  said.  I  bent  over 
your  crib  many  times,  my  daughter,  during  that 
fearful  night  of  storm,  as  if  to  assure  myself 
that  it  had  not  spent  itself  upon  your  innocent 
head,  and  taken  you  from  me ;  but  you  slept  on, 
unmindful  of  it  all,  and  your  mother's  coming 
sorrow ;  unmindful  of  your  unknown  loss.  And 
I  kept  watch  alone. 

"  As  the  daylight  dawned,  I  muffled  myself 
up,  and  crept  above  stairs.  As  I  opened  the 
46 


By  the  Sea. 

trapdoor  leading  to  the  walk,  the  icy  sleet 
struck  me  in  the  face,  and  drove  me  into  shel- 
ter ;  and  as  I  turned  back,  I  knelt,  and  prayed, 
as  I  never  prayed  before,  for  those  '  who  go  down 
to  the  sea  in  ships.' 

"  What  was  it,  I  thought,  that  seemed  so 
ominous  to  me  ?  —  that  sad  foreboding  at  my 
heart?  I  could  not  tell,  but  was  impelled  by 
some  unknown  cause  to  look  again  out  upon  the 
night,  into  which  the  trace  of  daylight  was,  like 
myself,  trying  to  pierce. 

"  Again  1  ventured  to  open  the  trapdoor  lead- 
ing to  the  walk,  and  threw  it  back,  with  a  de- 
termination that  nothing  should  prevent  me 
from  knowing  the  worst  of  this  terrible  storm. 
Again,  the  rain  and  snow  and  sleet  beat,  as 
mercilessly  as  ever,  upon  my  young  head.  I 
could  see  our  people  running  towards  the  wharf. 
Some  commotion  was  bestirring  our  island  family. 
Was  a  ship  in?  I  asked.  Was  my  ship  in  ?  I 
asked  myself  again.  But  no,  that  could  not  be, 
for  no  boy  had  as  yet  raised  our  brass  knocker 
on  the  door,  to  claim  his  shining  silver  dollar 
from  the  wife  of  the  captain  of  the  '  Leviathan/ 
I  remember  well  the  great  comfort  that  came 
with  that  hope  (as  great  as  false,  alas,  daugh- 
47 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

ter!)  and  again  I  thought  of  the  ship  'Levia- 
than '  itself,  and  how  well  it  deserved  its  name. 
Nothing  could  harm  that  grand  ship,  I  said  to 
myself. 

"  But  I  saw  men,  boys,  —  yes,  and  even 
women,  —  running  our  streets  !  Reaching  out 
for  the  spyglass,  which  always  hung  just  inside 
the  door,  I  grasped  it  as  tightly  as  my  trembling 
hands  would  allow.  I  thought  I  heard  your 
baby  voice  calling,  '  Mamma !  Papa ! '  but  I  had 
already  levelled  the  glass,  and  I  was  powerless 
to  answer  you,  for  another's  voice  beyond,  over 
the  waters,  seemed  calling  to  me  above  the 
winds. 

"Of  course  it  was  only  my  imagination, 
daughter  ;  but  I  love  still  to  think  I  heard  your 
father's  brave  voice  calling  from  out  his  peril, 
'  Courage  !  Courage  ! '  True,  he  might  have  been 
saying  it  to  his  crew,  for  he  was  always  so  brave ; 
but  I  like  to  feel  that  it  was  his  dying  message 
to  me,  '  Courage ! '  and  to  this  day,  whenever 
trouble  or  perplexities  come,  Phoebe,  I  hear  that 
helpful  message  of  his,  '  Courage ! '  and  take 
heart. 

"  Well,  to  return,"  said  the  brave  woman,  "  1 
levelled  the  glass  again  and  again,  and  again  and 
48 


By  the  Sea. 

again,  the  rain  almost  froze  upon  it,  and  I  could 
hardly  make  out  —  but  I  did  —  a  ship  off  the 
bar.  There  was  but  one  ship  for  me,  thought  I, 
and  yet,  in  such  a  storm,  all  ships  needed  my 
prayers. 

"  Yes,  there  she  was,  helpless  even  in  her 
great  strength.  I  saw  a  flag  flying  from  her 
masthead,  but  only  a  remnant  of  a  flag  it 
proved ;  for  the  fury  of  the  wind  had  played  sad 
havoc  with  the  '  star-spangled  banner,'  and  that 
other,  the  ship's  flag,  too. 

"  There  I  stood,  alone,  and  faced  the  storm  — 
and  my  future,  Phoebe ;  for,  by  the  brighter 
light  of  the  morning,  which  only  intensified  my 
night  of  sorrow,  I  saw  —  my  —  ship  —  come  —  in. 
Signals  of  distress  were  hoisted.  Signals,  guns, 
and  lights  appealed  to  the  crowd  on  shore  and  the 
lonely  watcher  on  the  walk.  All  in  vain !  for  in 
such  a  furious  gale  life-lines,  lifeboats,  all  would 
have  been  useless,  and  only  made  other  widows 
and  other  orphans  in  this  island  family. 

"  How  long  I  stood  there  I  never  realized ; 
but  through  the  frosted  glass  I  saw  the  ship,  — 
his  ship,  —  as  if  in  the  last  throes  of  her  death- 
struggle,  rise  on  a  stormy  wave,  as  if  making 
one  last  effort  to  be  saved  from  destruction,  and 
4  49 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

then  down  —  down  —  down  —  she  sank,  and 
only  the  top  of  her  mizzen-mast  was  visible ; 
and  the  sighing  of  the  gale  through  her  torn 
flags  marked  the  grave  of  the  *  Leviathan '  and 
her  gallant  crew.  And  on  the  winds  caine  that 
message  to  my  widow's  heart  of  the  life  sacrifice 
of  her  captain,  and  told  me  too  that  my  watch 
was  over;  and  I  knew  no  more,  and  no  one  ever 
told  me  more,  for  I  seemed  to  know  it  all  in  my 
waking  dreams  and  the  delirium  of  fever  that 
followed. 

"  And  it  was  on  such  a  night  as  that,  Phoebe, 
that  the  '  Leviathan  '  and  her  brave  captain  and 
crew  perished  within  sight  of  home,  —  he,  your 
father,  almost  within  sound  of  your  baby  voice, 
calling  him  to  you." 

The  squeeze  of  the  hand  was  not  so  apparent 
this  time,  for  Phoebe  buried  her  face  in  her 
mother's  lap,  saying, "  My  brave,  brave  mother ! " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  widow,  who  had  thus  told 
the  story  of  her  life  with  unusual  dramatic 
power ;  "  but  I  have  been  sustained  through  all 
these  years  by  that  last  message  of  your  father's, 
—  imaginary,  if  you  say  so,  —  telling  me  always 
to  have  '  Courage !  Courage ! '  And  I  have  tried 
to  be  brave  as  he  was  in  his  hour  of  peril,  and  as 
50 


By  the  Sea. 

I  know  he  would  have  me  to  be ;  but  sometimes 
bravery  has  a  great  price  upon  it."  And  the 
widow's  face  bore  the  marks  of  her  struggle  for 
the  victory. 

So  was  told  the  story  of  that  last  night-on-the- 
walk, —  a  story  of  repetition  in  the  hearts  of 
many  of  the  women  in  that  little  island  town 
to-day. 

So  it  was  told  ;  —  and  at  its  conclusion  Mrs. 
Valentine  said,  "  Come,  come,  daughter ;  this 
will  never  do !  Tears,  Phoebe  ?  What !  tears, 
like  these,  from  a  hero's  daughter  ?  Let  us 
always  remember  we  have  his  inheritance  to  live 
up  to,  and  that  we  are  both  brave  women.  And 
know,  that  to  some  '  a  night  on  the  walk '  is,  in 
these  later  days  of  fashion,  only  a  pleasure  day 
'  on  the  lookout,'  and  you  may  as  well  join 
the  procession  that  moves  on  towards  Susan 
Coffin's  '  lookout  party,'  for  you  promised  Mrs. 
Coffin,  you  know,  that  you  would  certainly  help 
in  serving  refreshments  to  the  young  people. 
So  go  before  you  are  too  late  to  be  of  service." 

"  Must  I  go,  mother  ?  "  asked  Phosbe.    "  I  can 

never  again  step  foot  on  a  walk.     It  is  from  this 

time  a  sacred  spot  to  me.     But  you  are  right ;  I 

promised  to  help  Martha,  and  so  I  will ;  but  I 

51 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

must  leave  to  some  one  else  any  assistance  at 
entertaining  on  the  '  lookout,'  as  the  invitation 
reads.  Good-bye,  mother  dear  ;  until  now  my 
father  was  a  stranger  to  me,  but  to-day  I  know 
him  as  a  good,  brave  man,  a  hero  !  Good-bye." 

And  with  this  parting  message  repeated  again 
Phoebe  Valentine  went  her  way.  But  it  was 
quite  a  different  story  from  the  one  to  which  she 
had  just  listened,  that  Phoebe  overheard  when 
she  arrived  at  Mrs.  Coffin's,  where  the  "  lookout 
party  "  was  at  its  height  of  fashion  and  enjoy- 
ment ;  for  old  Captain  Howland,  Mrs.  Coffin's 
father,  a  rough  old  fellow,  whose  rheumatism 
would  not  allow  him  to  climb  to  the  walk,  sat 
ensconced  in  the  front  hall,  surrounded  by  a 
bevy  of  boys  who  stood  agape  at  the  wonderful 
stories  of  the  sea  with  which  the  old  salt  was 
amusing  his  audience. 

"  No,  I  can't  climb  up  to  the  cross-trees  any 
more,  boys,"  said  the  old  captain,  as  a  twinge  of 
lumbago  emphasized  the  truth  of  his  words ; 
"  but  once,  I  can  tell  you,  I  was  as  nimble  as 
any  of  you.  Whew !  "  and  the  old  man  gave  a 
whistle  that  must  have  been  heard  even  up  on 
the  lookout,  where  some  of  the  young  people 
were  "taking  observations."  "  Why,  the  way  I 
52 


By  the  Sea. 

once  climbed  those  masts  was  a  caution,  boys  !  " 
said  the  captain,  in  pride.  "  Tell  yer  a  whale 
story  ? "  he  repeated,  as  one  of  his  audience 
asked  for  "  a  true  whale  story."  "  Dunno  as  I 
can  remember  one.  That  was  a  long  time  ago, 
boys,  when  I  used  to  go  a-whaling,  with  some  of 
your  grandfathers,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  and  we 
did  n't  make  half  the  fuss  that  these  fashionable 
city  chaps  make  to-day,  when  they  go  a-blue- 
fishing  down  here,  with  their  oilskin  suits  and 
sech  fixin's.  Little  we  cared  whether  we  had  a 
lunch  by  us  or  not.  Some  days  we  forgot  all 
about  eating.  Fact  was,  sailing  and  striking  a 
sperm  whale  was  meat  and  drink  for  us,  and  we 
made  merry  over  our  luck,  —  had  a  jollification, 
I  can  tell  you,  boys  ;  but  don't  ask  me  how." 
And  the  expression  upon  the  old  man's  face 
betokened  a  knowledge  to  be  kept  secret. 

"  Well,  a  whale  story,  is  it,  you  ask  for,  boys  ? 
Let  me  see.  Here  it  is,  boys ! "  and  the  old 
weather-beaten,  storm-tossed  sailor,  who  had 
rounded  Cape  Horn  a  dozen  times  or  more,  —  in 
short,  explored  almost  every  corner  of  the  known 
globe,  —  commenced  :  — 

"  It  was  about  the  year  18 — ,  and  we  had  been 
out  months  and  never  put  eyes  on  a  spout,  when, 
53 


'Twixt  You  and   Me. 

one  day,  —  it  was  the  second  mate's  watch  on 
deck,  —  we  heard  the  cry,  'There  she  blows!' 
and  we  shouted  back  to  him,  '  Where  away  ? ' 
'  Two  points  on  our  lee  bow,'  came  back  his 
answer  to  us. 

"  Talk  about  cool  heads ! "  said  the  old  cap- 
tain. "  Why,  there  wasn't  one  aboard  that  old 
whaler!  I  hate  to  spoil  a  good  story  by  saying 
so,  boys  ;  but  the  truth  must  be  told,  you  know ! 
Why,  I  had  to  just  pull  myself  together,  and 
make  sure  that  I  was  captain  of  the  whaleship 
'  Jonah.' 

"Folks  didn't  want  her  named  that,  but  her 
owners  were  determined  on  it.  Said  they  would 
cure  sailors  of  silly  superstitions.  —  Never  can  !  " 
said  Captain  Rowland,  in  an  aside.  "  Never  can 
cure  a  sailor  of  superstition  so  long  as  Mother 
Carey's  chickens  have  wings  to  fly  with,  and  Davy 
Jones'  locker  has  a  door.  They,  the  owners, 
said  that  if  a  whale  did  get  hold  of  us,  and 
attempt  to  swallow  the  ship,  we  'd  be  just  as 
lucky  as  Jonah  was,  and  come  to  life  again.  So 
they  defied  superstition,  and  the  sailors  too,  for  1 
had  mighty  hard  work  to  get  a  ship's  crew,  I  can 
tell  you.  Seems  as  if  when  a  sailor  heard  the 
ship's  name  he  'd  no  further  use  for  her  or  me." 
54 


By  the  Sea. 

"  And  did  you  ever  get  eaten  up  by  a  whale  ?" 
asked  one  of  the  old  captain's  over-excited 
hearers. 

"Did  I  ever  get  eaten  up,  lad?"  asked  Cap- 
tain Howland,  repeating  the  question  of  the  boy. 
"  No,  not  just.  Ain't  I  all  here  ?  that  is,  all  but 
the  tip-ends  o'  those  two  fingers  of  mine,  when 
I  came  pretty  nigh  making  a  meal  for  that  fel- 
low." And  Captain  Howland  showed  his  hear- 
ers a  rough,  weather-beaten  hand  minus  the  ends 
of  two  of  the  fingers. 

"  Well,  to  go  on :  we  watched  for  the  flukes 
of  that  visitor  two  points  on  our  lee  bow,  and 
then  we  saw  him,  and  the  boats  were  manned. 
Every  man  on  board  wanted  to  go,  of  course, 
but  somebody  had  to  be  left  to  keep  ship,  boys, 
and  take  care  of  her ;  for  my  wife  would  insist 
upon  going  with  me,  that  voyage,  and  knowing 
by  observation  what  a  whaling  voyage  was  like. 
She  found  out  before  we  got  home,  I  can  tell 
you,  and  she  never  asked  afterwards  to  go  to 
sea  with  me. 

"  Well,  1  picked  out  my  men  to  go  with  me  to 
look  for  Jonah's  enemy,  though  I  hoped  to  con- 
vert him  into  a  friend  to  my  Jonah.  Yes,  of 
course  I  went,  for  I  made  up  my  mind  if  there 
55 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

was  going  to  be  any  fun,  I  should  be  in  it.  You 
see  I  wanted  my  share  of  fun,  and  oil  too." 

"  How  do  you  get  the  oil,  captain  ? "  asked 
one  of  his  hearers. 

"  Oh,  that 's  a  long  story,  boys ;  but  you  come 
over  to  my  house,  some  day,  and  I  '11  tell  you  all 
the  mysteries  of  harpooning  and  lancing  and 
cutting  in.  This  is  no  place  to  tell  it,  with  all 
these  young  ladies  about  in  their  frills  and  fur- 
belows. Might  get  some  oil  on  their  bright 
ribbons,  you  know,"  said  the  old  captain,  face- 
tiously. "  But  I  want  to  tell  you  about  those 
two  missing  finger-tips,  and  then  I  'm  done  for 
to-day. 

"  You  see,"  continued  the  old  sailor,  "  when 
a  whale  goes  down  into  the  ocean,  after  he  has 
sighted  trouble  ahead,  on  his  lee  bow,  you  have 
to  keep  run  of  the  spot  he  chooses  for  his  door 
of  escape,  —  sort  o'  mark  it,  with  a  tablet  like ; 
a  tablet  in  your  memory,  boys,  —  but  look  out 
for  it,  and  mark  it,  '  Dangerous ! ' 

"  Well,  this  fellow  was  a  treacherous  old  un. 
I  suspicion  he  'd  felt  the  prick  of  a  harpoon 
before,  and  knew  it  all.  'T  any  rate,  he  proved 
too  wise  for  some  of  us ;  for  when  his  jaws 
opened,  seemed  like  we  saw  eternity  in  the 
56 


By  the  Sea. 

cavern,  and  when  he  closed  'em,  —  well,  eternity 
seemed  right  next  door !  Ugh !  I  can  hear 
that  crunching  of  his  jaws  now,  just  as  when  he 
took  my  boat,  and  me,  too,  between  his  ivories  ; 
and  while  I  did  n't  stay  in  the  whale  nigh  so 
long  as  Jonah  did,  I  had  as  long  an  acquaint- 
ance with  him  as  I  wanted,  and  one  I  sha'n't 
soon  forget.  Bless  my  stars !  —  unlucky  ones, 
boys,  I  can  tell  you,  they  were,  —  if  I  'd  'a'  had 
this  rheumatiz  of  mine  then,  I  'd  'a'  lost  more  'n 
two  finger-tips,  boys ;  but  he  got  'em !  and  we 
parted  company." 

By  this  time  his  hearers  had  become  almost 
as  excited  as  the  old  captain  himself ;  and  an- 
other boy,  more  anxious  for  information  than 
the  first  one,  asked,  "  What  did  you  think  of, 
captain,  when  you  was  in  the  whale's  mouth  ?  " 

"  What  did  I  think  of  ?  1  thought  he  'd  make 
a  hunderd  barrels  !  "  replied  Captain  Howland, 
to  whom  the  rehearsal  of  his  life  at  sea  had 
been  equally  inspiring  as  to  his  youthful  hearers, 
who  joined  in  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  old  man's 
ruling  passion,  strong  even  in  the  presence  of 
death;  and  the  heroic  old  captain  arose  from 
his  chair,  followed  by  three  hearty  cheers  from 
his  audience,  for  "  Captain  Howland  and  his 
57  x 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

friend  Jonah ! "  leaving  the  young  people  to 
find  their  way  to  the  refreshment  room ;  and 
the  "  lookout  party "  at  its  close  was  voted  a 
success,  despite  the  associations  with  its  less 
fashionable  name  of  "  walk." 

As  Rosemary  and  Daisy  went  their  way  home, 
the  setting  sun  reminded  them  both  that  not 
only  was  the  day  ending,  but  that  their  summer 
would  soon  pass,  and  be  but  a  memory,  even 
though  August  winds  were  still  blowing  over 
the  sea-girt  island,  that  had  been  to  them  a 
happy,  happy  home  for  many  happy,  happy  sum- 
mers. Both  of  the  young  girls  seemed  as  if 
thinking  of  the  coming  parting,  which  would 
only  too  soon  sunder  the  summer  ties  of  friend- 
ship :  its  shadow  seemed  intruding  itself  to  mar 
the  happiness  of  the  afternoon  hour  of  pleas- 
ure ;  and  the  girls  for  a  time  were  silent,  but 
the  waves  on  the  beach  still  kept  creeping  nearer 
and  nearer  to  them,  as  they  did  in  those  other 
days  of  childhood,  when  they  bared  their  feet  to 
the  ocean's  kisses,  and  laughed  in  glee  over  the 
ruin  of  their  pretty  frocks. 

Rosemary  it  was,  who  broke  the  silence,  say- 
ing, "  Now,  you  will  not  forget  your  promise, 
Daisy,  to  send  me  a  flower  now  and  then,  will 
58 


By  the  Sea. 

you  ?  You  know  flowers  can  talk,  even  though 
their  messages  are  not  always  as  sweet  as  their 
fragrance." 

"  No,"  replied  Daisy  ;  "  I  shall  not  forget  my 
promise,  Rosemary.  Have  no  fear  of  that ;  but 
I  cannot  yet  keep  from  wondering  what  will  be 
quite  the  right  messenger  to  send  when  the  pre- 
ceptress shall  whisper  in  my  ear  that  fatal  word 
'  Expelled  ; ' "  and  Daisy  made  an  effort  to  be 
tragic,  but  she  was  no  queen  of  tragedy,  as  was 
easily  seen  by  a  look  into  her  roguish  face,  for 
comedy  was  seemingly  more  to  the  taste  and 
disposition  of  the  sunny,  merry-hearted  girl, 
who  did  not  really  mean  the  half  she  said,  cer- 
tainly not  in  its  worst  interpretation. 

"  Oh,  Daisy  dear,"  said  Rosemary,  "  I  shall 
be  so  sorry  to  get  that  flower.  Think  of  me, 
dearie,  and  you  will  never  send  me  that  thorn 
out  of  your  flower-garden,  —  that  faded  bit  of 
marjoram." 

And  the  day  of  parting  came. 

The  hour  for  starting  was  an  early  one.     The 

steamer  lay  at  her  dock  in  the  haze  of  a  summer 

morning.    Her  bell  sounded  its  note  of  warning. 

The   baggage  wagons  rattled  over   the   cobble- 

59       >• 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

stones,  as  if  threatening  total  annihilation  of 
man,  beast,  and  baggage.  The  wharf  was  in 
possession  of  a  good-natured  crowd ;  the  browned 
faces  of  the  majority  telling,  more  emphatically 
than  words  ever  could,  of  holiday  pleasures. 
The  loaded  trucks  of  baggage  were  rushed 
aboard  the  steamer,  no  discrimination  being 
made  between  the  Saratoga  of  the  summer  belle 
and  the  insignificant  piece  of  luggage,  securely, 
if  not  artistically,  bound  by  a  hemp  rope  by  its 
owner,  who  had  served  her  apprenticeship  at  the 
fashionable  summer  hostelries  of  the  island. 
Little  groups  of  people  gathered  here  and  there 
about  their  particular  passenger  to  go  on  the 
morning  boat,  and  for  whom  they  had  sacrificed 
that  last  nap,  that  they  might  wish  a  "  God 
speed "  to  carry  them  safely  to  "  the  haven 
where  they  would  be." 

At  last,  just  as  the  final  warning  bell  was 
sounding,  came  Daisy  Wilder,  with  a  covered 
bird-cage  in  one  hand,  and  guiding  by  a  string, 
in  her  other,  Dandy,  her  Boston  terrier ;  her 
hurried  walk,  which  might  better  be  called  a 
run,  threatening  to  upset  Dick,  the  canary,  in 
his  cage,  or  to  strangle  little  Dandy,  whose  feet 
were  guided  more  by  his  inclinations  to  remain 
60 


By  the  Sea. 

on  shore  than  to  respond  to  the  drawing  of 
the  string  fastened  to  his  collar. 

Following  Daisy,  came  "  mistress  "  —  Mrs. 
Wilder,  Daisy's  mother  —  and  "maid;"  the 
latter  trying,  almost  in  vain,  to  hold  in  place 
the  cover  of  a  hasket,  against  which  Tom,  the 
house  cat,  was  using  all  his  strength,  and  keep- 
ing himself  constantly  in  the  mind  of  his  attend- 
ant, Kate  Sullivan,  by  continual  piteous  cries, 
which,  with  the  barking  of  Dandy  and  the  shrill 
screeching  of  Polly,  under  Harold  Macy's  care, 
made  a  noisy  jargon  of  discords  that  waited 
for  no  encore  from  the  assembled  company 
gathered  to  bid  "  good-bye  "  to  their  vanishing- 
bit  of  sunshine,  —  their  loved  companion,  Daisy 
Wilder. 

"  Here  comes  the  Zoo  !  "  called  the  latter,  as 
she  hurriedly  put  her  pets  in  charge  of  the 
stewardess,  and  then  ran  ashore  for  just  one 
last  word  with  her  young  friends,  who  could 
not  find  words  enough  in  which  to  express 
the  loneliness  that  would  be  in  their  hearts 
after  her  departure.  "  Well,"  said  Daisy,  "  is 
not  it  better  for  me  to  go  away  now,  than  stay, 
perhaps  to  wear  my  welcome  out,  and  part  as 
—  strangers  ?  "  and  as  Daisy  repeated  the  last 
61 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

word,  she  looked  towards  her  cousin,  Harold 
Macy  ;  and,  pointing  her  finger  as  if  in  warn- 
ing, she  said  to  the  latter  the  one  word,  "  Re- 
member ! "  which  must  have  had  the  desired 
effect,  for  he  was  never  again  known  to  speak 
the  tabooed  word  in  connection  with  his  cousin 
Daisy. 

Adieus  were  said,  promises  made,  sealed 
by  a  kiss  all  around  ;  and  as  Daisy  stepped 
aboard  the  gangway  plank,  she  placed  in  Rose- 
mary McBurnie's  hand  a  ball  of  strong  twine, 
saying,  "  Take  it,  Rosemary,  and  let  go  fast." 
Then  getting  in  position,  on  the  stern  end  of 
the  steamer,  Daisy  watched  her  friend  on  shore 
(who  had,  by  the  way,  mounted  on  the  tall  piles 
that  helped  to  support  the  wharf),  unwind- 
ing —  unwinding  —  and  unwinding  —  the  cord 
which  bound,  but  separated,  the  two  young 
hearts ;  and  the  steamer  started  out  on  its 
daily  journey. 

Oh,  for  the  sincerity  always  of  those  friend- 
ships of  Youth,  before  the  world  has  blighted 
the  leaves  of  the  roses,  and  planted  its  thorns 
of  prejudice  and  distrust  in  our  path.  Live 
on,  happy  Youth !  live  on  in  your  friendships 
of  To-day!  and  trample  out  the  weeds  that 
62 


By  the  Sea. 

threaten  destruction  to  every  garden  whose 
seeds  are  not  sown  in  the  true  spirit;  for 
weeds  of  discord  can  never  grow  where  sincerity 
of  heart  and  purpose  bid  defiance  to  such 
intruders. 

Slowly,  at  first,  the  steamer  went  on  its  way, 
and  slowly  the  cord  unwound.  Still  Daisy  sat 
at  her  post  in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  winding 
the  loose  cord,  that  Rosemary,  on  shore,  was 
unloosing  —  unwinding  —  and  winding  —  wind- 
ing —  and  unwinding.  So  they  sat  in  the  one 
mood  of  thought ;  and  just  as  the  steamer  was 
about  to  round  the  Point,  Daisy  wound  in  her 
last  length,  and  there  fell  at  Rosemary's  feet 
a  tiny  box,  from  which  dropped  in  all  its  sweet 
significance  a 

FOR  GET-ME-NO  T. 


63 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 


Foryet-Me-Not. 

Enduring  Memories. 

'Tis  a  little  flower  in  raiment  blue  : 
It  speaks  to  me,  and  it  speaks  to  you  ; 
Its  voice  is  Love,  and  its  message  true,  — 
"  Forget-Me-Not." 

It  may  be  that  He  —  ah  !  who  can  say  ?  — 
Let  fall  a  star,  to  beckon  the  way 
To  the  heart  of  Man,  and  bade  it  say,  — 
"  Forget-Me-Not." 

The  little  flower  has  a  dress  of  blue, 
As  blue  as  the  sky  the  stars  shine  through  ; 
Like  a  star  it  hides,  and  cries,  "  Peep-Boo  !  — 
Forget-Me-Not." 

With  His  holy  blessing  for  its  claim, 
Its  life  is  crowned.     It  seeks  not  fame. 
Only  your  love.  —  Do  you  ask  its  name  f 
Forget-Me-Not. 

GRACE  LE  BARON. 


64 


II. 

SEA  KEMINISCEXCES. 

PANSY.   THOUGHTS  OF  THEE. 

A  WILD  unrest  seemed  to  overshadow  Rose- 
mary's usual  happy  summer  life.  The 
very  ocean,  she  fancied,  partook  of  her  loneli- 
ness ;  for  a  storm  followed  closely  upon  Daisy's 
departure,  and  the  waves  beating  upon  the 
beach  only  responded  to  Rosemary's  sorrowful 
heart.  She  even  felt  that  the  rain  was  but  the 
sky  mingling  its  tears  with  hers.  Only  the 
flower-garden  smiled,  as  before,  to  her,  in  all 
its  wealth  of  color  and  harmony  ;  and  Rose- 
mary, as  she  watched  lovingly  over  the  pretty 
flowers,  bestowed  upon  them  an  unusual  care, 
now  that  they  were  to  serve  as  messengers  of 
love  to  her  absent  friend. 

The  Wilder  cottage,  with  its  closed  shutters, 
seemed  symbolical  of  the  loneliness  that  filled 
Rosemary's  heart ;  and  it  was  in  vain  that  she 
tried  to  comfort  herself  with  the  thought  that 
soon  she  too  would  be  in  the  work-a-day  world 
67 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

of  school-life,  with  her  chosen  companions  of 
school-days, — her  books. 

The  little  forget-me-not  was  still  speaking, 
in  all  its  freshness  and  delicate  beauty,  of  the 
absent  one  ;  for  Rosemary  had  nursed  it  with 
greatest  care  for  many  days,  that  it  might 
bring  her  the  comforting  memories  of  happy 
hours  with  Daisy  Wilder. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Rosemary,  "  I  never  knew 
such  a  long  summer  ;  and  it  promised  to  be 
such  a  happy  one,  too !  Is  it  not  always  the 
way  ?  Does  it  not  seem  that  when  you  just 
get  to  enjoying  yourself,  something  comes  to 
make  you  miserable  and  unhappy  ?  " 

"  Quite  right ;  so  it  seems  to  us,  until  we 
know  His  wisdom,  Rosemary,"  replied  Mrs. 
McBurnie.  "  And  it  is  so  all  through  life. 
Only  yesterday  I  sat  under  the  window,  and 
heard  two  old  sea  captains  bemoaning  the  loss 
of  one  of  their  craft,  evidently.  Said  one, 
'  That 's  just  it,  cap'n  ;  just  when  a  man  gets 
fixed,  and  ready  to  live,  he  ups  and  dies.'  And 
I  thought  it  was  pretty  true.  But,  pray,  what 
is  the  matter  now,  Rosemary  ?  Is  it  because 
Daisy  has  left  you  to  try  to  live  one  month 
more  of  summer  without  her  that  you  forget 
68 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

the  two  happy  months  with  her?  That  must 
not  be.  Each  day  has  its  jewel,  set  in  a  gar- 
niture of  happiness  and  content." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  have  guessed  rightly, 
mother  ;  but  I  am  going  to  count  my  jewels  as 
you  suggest,"  replied  Rosemary. 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  her  mother ;  "  and  do  not 
be  looking  for  the  flaws,  or  a  larger  Kohinoor 
in  your  neighbor's  world." 

"  I  am  glad,  mamma,  for  one  thing,  and  that 
is  that  the  summer  is  going  out  in  a  blaze  of 
glory,  with  the  picnic,  on  Wednesday  the 
twenty-ninth,  and  then  home,  —  our  other 
home,  I  mean.  I  shall  write  to  Daisy  after 
the  picnic ;  that  is,  the  Goddess  Flora  will 
be  my  private  secretary.  Hers  is  a  cipher 
language." 

"  And  what  little  flower  is  to  have  its  head- 
piece cropped  for  a  messenger  to  hoydenish 
little  Daisy  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  McBurnie.  "  Has 
she  gone  to  her  school,  I  wonder,  Rosemary  ? 
Poor  girl !  if  only  she  comes  under  the  right 
influence  in  her  school-life,  she  will  develop 
into  a  noble  woman.  Hers  is  a  nature  that 
love  and  not  law  can  make  much  of.  Only 
find  the  right  key  to  her  loving  heart,  and  her 
69 


Twixt  You  and   Me. 

head  and  feet  will  be  always  turned  in  the 
right  direction  ;  but  I  tremble  for  such  a  girl, 
for  much  will  depend  upon  the  one  who  has 
the  moulding  of  her  youthful  mind.  I  wonder 
that  Mrs.  Wilder  sent  her  away  from  her 
watchful  eye.  Where  is  she  going  to  school, 
Rosemary  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  mamma,  "  said  Rosemary, 
in  reply.  "  I  met  her  cousin,  Harold  Macy,  at 
the  Cliff;  and  he  said  that  Daisy  wrote  his 
mother  that  she  would  soon  be  starting  for 
the  battlefield, — -to  slaughter,  but  not  to  con- 
quer. Just  like  her,  the  little  witch !  I  am 
afraid  that  it  will  not  be  long  before  we  hear 
of  her  in  some  mischief;  but  there  is  one  thing, 
mamma,  Daisy  is  very  honest  and  straight- 
forward. She  will  never  see  another  suffer 
for  her  shortcomings,  but  confess  her  naughti- 
ness ;  and  such  girls  always  get  imposed  upon 
by  others,  who  are  only  too  glad  to  make  them 
a  target  for  everything.  No  ;  Daisy  has  not  a 
particle  of  deceit  in  her  make-up." 

Loyal  little  friend  !  Your  words  have  the  true 
ring. 

Rosemary  McBurnie  was  right.  Daisy  Wilder 
had  not  a  trace  of  deceit  in  her  character.  Mis- 
70 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

chief  was  to  her,  not  a  crime  to  be  bemoaned, 
but  an  overflow  of  spirit  that  must  have  vent. 
Her  heart  was  in  its  right  place,  although  her 
head  planned  much  that  led  her  feet  in  dan- 
gerous ways  ;  and  Mrs.  McBurnie  was  right  in 
affirming  that  "  love,  and  not  law,"  would  be 
her  most  successful  guide. 

And  the  days  of  summer  passed. 

The  last  holiday  of  the  season  was  to  be 
brightened  by  a  trip  to  see  the  new  little  island 
that  old  Ocean  had  given  to  the  mother  island, 
when  it  washed  over  the  rushes  and  added 
another  of  nature's  jewels  in  the  little  harbor's 
crown  of  beauty. 

The  holiday  trip  was  to  be  a  true  picnic  of 
pleasure  on  the  water  ;  but  a  picnic  on  the  water 
has  more  hindrances  to  its  success  than  one  on 
shore ;  where,  if  winds  blow,  or  do  not  blow,  it 
is  quite  the  same,  under  the  sheltering  shade  of 
the  pine-trees  of  a  country  forest. 

There  was,  then,  much  in  this  last  holiday 
picnic  to  be  desired,  in  order  that  the  little  party 
should  enjoy  without  fear  of  disaster  or  disap- 
pointment. But  fears  of  too  high  winds  were 
groundless,  for,  when  the  morning  came  for  the 
picnic,  the  harbor  was  as  smooth  as  a  mill-pond ; 
71 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

but,  alas !  here,  too,  was  something  undesirable, 
for  a  sail  was  a  sail,  and  a  sail  and  a  calm  were 
enemies.  There  was  much  consultation  over 
the  winds  to  be,  and  the  winds  that  were  not. 

Finally,  old  Captain  Wyer  was  consulted.  He 
was  an  oracle  on  all  nautical  matters,  but,  like 
most  of  the  captains  of  the  island,  rarely  gave 
a  definite  answer ;  so  that  when  he  said,  "  No 
wind  now,  that's  sure,"  every  one  knew  that. 
And  when  he  added,  "  Should  n't  wonder  if  it 
breezed  up  before  night ;  it  might,  and  then, 
again,  it  might  n't,"  every  one  thought  so  too. 

Fortunately,  time  was  of  no  particular  value 
to  the  party  of  picnickers,  and  old  Boreas  held 
the  scales  of  measurement.  The  party  gathered, 
one  by  one,  at  the  boat's  landing;  and  since 
there  was  only  a  "  white  ash  breeze  "  in  favor  of 
going,  they  all  sought  shelter  from  the  hot  sun 
under  cover  of  an  old  boat-house  on  the  wharf 
near  by,  where  they  could  watch  the  little  white 
fleet  in  the  harbor,  —  all,  like  themselves,  wait- 
ing for  a  moment's  warning,  when  they  might 
"  up  anchor,"  and  start. 

In  the  old  boat-house  sat  three  old  sailors,  ex- 
changing "yarns,"  and  the  young  people  gathered 
about  the  trio  to  share  in  their  stories. 
72 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

One  of  them  had  long  bushy  eyebrows,  and  a 
wealth  of  eyelashes,  which  might  easily  have 
been  held  responsible  for  his  loss  of  sight,  had 
not  cataracts  come  with  his  old  age,  to  shut  from 
him  the  light  of  day.  He  had,  however,  one 
boast,  and  that  was,  of  his  hearing ;  and  he 
would  often  assert  that  he  could  hear  the  bell 
buoy  off  the  bar  some  miles  away,  and  by  it 
tell  the  way  o'  the  wind. 

The  second  sailor  always  sat  with  his  elbow 
on  his  knee,  and  with  his  left  hand  up  to  his  ear, 
telling  every  one  that  he  was  just  "  a  leetle  hard 
of  hearing,"  —  which  was  quite  true,  since  it 
was  doubtful  if  anything  short  of  a  cannon, 
touched  off  in  closest  proximity  to  his  defective 
organ,  would  move  him,  or  make  him  change 
his  one  position.  Not  to  be  outdone  by  his 
blind  companion  in  boasting,  he  would  say  to 
any  and  all  who  failed  to  make  him  hear  their 
voice,  "  Just  let  a  whale  come  into  this  harbor, 
and  I  can  see  him  miles  out ; "  but  a  whale  never 
came. 

So  it  was  that  the  third  old  sailor,  once  a  sea 

captain,  was  the  life  of  this  party  of  three,  for  he 

could  see  and  hear  and  talk  ;  and  although  at 

times  his  stories  did  seem  a  bit  incredible,  yet 

73      ^ 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

they  had  just  enough  flavor  of  truth  in  them  to 
make  them  interesting. 

The  little  party  of  young  people  gathered 
about  him,  and  begged  for  just  one  story.  "  Just 
one,  while  we  wait,  captain,  please,"  said  one  of 
the  party ;  and  the  request  was  echoed  by  the 
others.  So  the  old  captain  tipped  back  in  his 
rickety  old  chair,  laid  his  tarpaulin  down  beside 
him  on  the  floor,  and,  stroking  his  long  gray 
beard,  seemed  as  if  thinking  of  something  with 
which  to  amuse  his  youthful  hearers  —  and  pos- 
sibly to  astonish  them  as  well. 

"  Well,  let  me  see,  now,"  he  commenced. 
"  Guess  you  have  all  of  you  heerd  about  the 
wreck  of  the  '  Jonah,'  Captain  Howland's  ship, 
heerd  how  it  went  to  bottom  in  the  South  Pacific. 
Then,  no  doubt,  good  many  of  you  have  heerd 
of  the  mutiny  of  the  crew  of  the  '  Lottie  Ann  ; ' 
so  I  '11  tell  you  this  story.  Don't  think  you  have 
ever  heerd  of  the  passenger  we  took  aboard  the 
'  Petrel,'  have  you  ?  " 

His  hearers  indicated  by  a  ready  shaking  of 
heads  that  they  had  never  heard  about  the 
mysterious  stranger  ;  and  Captain  Hussey  com- 
menced with  his  usual  preface,  "  Now,  this  un 
is  an  out-and-out  true  story,  mind  you  —  " 
74 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

But,  to  some  of  his  hearers,  these  words  did 
not  convey  much  ;  for  Captain  Hussey,  as  before 
said,  was  not  always  correct  in  his  discrimi- 
nation between  an  out-and-out  true  story  and  a 
fabrication  —  in  mild  form. 

"  It  was  in  the  fall  of  18 — ,"  said  the  captain, 
"  and  I  was  in  command  of  her,  —  the  '  Petrel,'  I 
mean.  She  was  a  merchant  trading  ship,  and  — 
but  she  was  a  beauty,  though  !  —  as  trig  as  these 
city  girls  in  their  ship's  togs,  down  here !  One 
day  I  got  a  letter  asking  me  if  I  would  take  a 
passenger  on  the  '  Petrel,'  —  one  who  needed  a 
long  sail, '  to  purify  him  ! '  Well,  I  thought  that 
my  two  years'  voyage  would  purify  the  worst  case 
of  dyspepsy  ever  known,  so  I  commenced  to  cor- 
respond with  the  gentleman,  and  it  was  finally 
agreed  upon  that  we  should  put  into  port  at 
Charleston  and  take  aboard  our  passenger. 

"  Well,  I  sorter  expected  our  kid-gloved 
friend,  whomsoever  he  was,  would  change  his 
mind  when  he  saw  our  craft  and  her  crew ;  but 
I  found  out  that  he  was  built  of  different  stuff. 

"  We  set  sail,  and,  as  agreed,  put  into  port 

at    Charleston.       We    waited,   too,   as    agreed, 

about  five  hours,  and  were  just  on  the  point  of 

getting  under  way,  when  a  stylish-looking  car- 

75 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

riage  dashed  down  the  wharf,  and  the  first  1 
ever  heerd  of  him  —  my  passenger  —  was  his 
voice,  close  to  my  elbow,  saying,  in  a  '  don't  you 
know '  kind  of  a  way,  —  you  should  have  heard 
the  twisfc  he  gave  to  '  Ship  Ahoy  ! '  The  «  Petrel,' 
I  told  him,  and  '  we  're  off  for  the  Sandwich 
Islands.  Who  are  you,  young  man  ? '  said  I. 

"  I  expected,  you  understand,  to  see  a  cadave- 
rous old  man  with  that  look  a  dyspepsy  fellow 
always  has,  that  seems  to  say,  '  Life  may  be 
worth  living,  but  I  have  n't  found  it  so  yet ! ' 
Instead,  there  stood  before  me  an  up-to-date 
young  man,  wearing  a  long  ulster  that  came 
down  to  his  heels.  Talk  of  checker-boards ! 
why,  the  checks  of  that  ulster  (long  topcoats  or 
raglans,  they  called  'em  then)  would  have  made 
enough  of  such  toys  for  all  you  folks.  It  had 
what  they  called  wings,  but,  from  the  look  of 
him,  they  were  n't  angels'  wings.  A  marine  glass 
was  strapped  over  his  shoulders,  and  he  carried 
umbrellas  and  canes  enough  to  stock  up  any 
travelling  pedler.  In  short,  he  was  a  reg'lar 
up-to-date  young  man  ! 

"  His  face  was  rosy,  and  he  wore  a  mustache, 
waxed,  mind  you  !  —  for  if  it  had  n't  been,  you 
would  have  needed  to  take  observations  to  find 
76 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

it.  He  looked  as  if  dyspepsy  was  a  nightmare 
he  never  even  dreamed  of. 

"  '  I  am  going  sailing  with  you  and  your  gal- 
lant crew,  captain,'  said  he. 

"  '  You  are,  are  you  ? '  said  I.  '  Who  said  you 
might  ? ' 

" '  You  did,  captain,'  replied  he  ;  and,  sure 
enough,  he  held  out  for  me  to  read  my  own  let- 
ters, that  I  had  supposed  I  had  been  writing  to 
a  poor,  suffering  dyspeptic  what  wanted  to  be 
purified. 

"  I  looked  him  all  over,  from  that  waxed 
mustache  to  the  tip-end  of  his  long  coat,  then  I 
said,  '  Oh,  and  so  you  are  the  gentleman  that 
expects  to  be  purified  by  a  sea  voyage.  Why, 
you  don't  look  as  if  you  was  suffering  from 
anything,  less  it  is  good  health.' 

"  '  Oh,'  he  said, '  I  am  not  sent  on  this  journey 
for  my  health,  Captain  Hussey.' 

"  '  What  then  ?  '  said  I. 

" '  Why,  my  father  thinks  my  morals  need 
purifying,  I  expect,  and  that  this  long  sea  voy- 
age will  give  me  a  chance  to  come  to  my  senses,' 
replied  the  young  man. 

"  I  do  wish,"  said  the  old  captain  to  his 
hearers,  "  I  wish  that  landsmen  would  n't  send 
77 


'Twixt  You  and   Me. 

their  ne'er-do-wells  to  sea  to  reform  'em.  Sea 
captains  are  n't  Sunday-school  teachers  ;  they 
don't  ship  for  that. 

"  Then  I  said  to  my  young  man,  by  way  of 
encouragement  (you  know  what  a  sinner  needs 
is  encouragement  to  reform  his  ways  ;  lie  does  n't 
want  to  be  told  he  is  a  sinner,  for  he  knows 
that ;  we  all  know  that.  We  are  all  sinners). — 
so  I  said  to  him,  '  Why,  you  don't  look  like  a 
half-bad  fellow,  my  boy.  What  do  you  know 
about  the  sea  ? '  I  asked.  '  Do  you  know 
enough  not  to  lose  your  head  when  a  hurricane 
comes  ?  for  with  the  first  wind  that  blows  you  '11 
have  to  close  reef  that  mustache  of  yours.' 

"  The  young  man  answered ;  '  No,  captain,  I 
don't  know  anything  about  a  hurricane  at  sea; 
and  I  guess  that  I  don't  know  much,  anyway,' 
he  added,  and  laughed  in  a  good-natured  man- 
ner ;  and  so  I  thought  I  'd  agree  with  him,  and 
take  a  little  conceit  out  of  him,  if  he  had  any, 
and  I  said,  as  good-naturedly,  'No,  you  don't 
look  as  if  you  do,'  for  all  I  could  think  of  was  a 
ship  in  full  sail,  head  on,  all  trig,  running  into 
one  of  those  South  Pacific  hurricanes  unawares. 

"  But  I  could  n't  scare  that  young  man  one 
bit,  for  he  looked  me  full  in  the  eye,  and  said,  in 
78 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

an  honest,  straightforward  way, '  But  I  can  learn, 
captain,'  and  that  one  saying  won  me  towards 
that  boy  then  and  there,  I  can  tell  you,  folks. 

"  Many  a  night  I  've  sat  watching  over  that 
boy  when  he  slept  (he  was  a  little  sick  for  a 
while,  of  course,  that 's  likely  !),  thinking,  think- 
ing, of  my  own  lad,  that  was  down  here  then, 
caring  for  his  mother  ;  and  I  wondered  if  he  was 
sent  out  alone,  away  from  every  one  that  belonged 
to  him,  with  a  strange  company  of  men,  how 
he 'd  turn  out  ? 

"  But,  there,"  said  the  old  captain,  as  he  put 
aside  his  red  bandanna  handkerchief,  "  I  have  n't 
got  my  passenger  aboard  ship  yet,  have  I  ?  so  let 
me  go  back  in  my  story.  As  I  said,  I  had  con- 
fidence in  that  young  man  right  away. 

"  Then  he  turned  to  the  porter  on  the  wharf 
and  said,  as  if  he  'd  ordered  all  his  life, l  Here, 
take  my  luggage  aboard,  John.' 

"  But  I  was  a-keeping  my  weather  eye  out  on 
that  same  luggage,  too !  and  when  I  saw  the 
porter  tipping,  end  over  end,  two  suspicious- 
looking  cases,  and  starting  aft  with  'em,  I  said 
to  my  young  friend,  '  Look  a-here,  young  man  ; 
no  dynamite  in  'em,  is  there  ? '  and  I  pointed  the 
porter's  way. 

79 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

" '  No,'  answered  he.  '  No  dynamite,  captain  ; 
only  a  little  something  for  this  thirsty  throat  of 
mine  ; '  and  he  kind  o'  laughed  as  he  said  it,  as 
if  he  thought  he  'd  been  smart. 

"  '  Fire-water,  I  suppose,'  said  I,  *  worse  than 
dynamite  !  — for  one  makes  a  clean  job,  and  kills 
instanter,  and  the  other  kills  by  degrees.  First 
the  legs  totter,  and  then  the  hand  gets  shaky, 
and  then  away  goes  the  head,  and  then  '  —  and 
1  looked  at  him  as  solemn  as  I  knew  how  — 
'then  the  heart  stops  beating, —  and  where  are 
ye  ?  No,  no,'  said  I,  firmly  but  kindly,  '  I  said  I  'd 
take  you  with  us  ;  but  I  did  n't  guarantee  to  take 
any  such  dangerous  friends  of  yours  as  these.' 

"  Then  I  turned  to  the  porter  and  said,  *  Put 
those  in  irons,  to  be  called  for  on  our  return  in 
two  years'  time ! '  And  I  put  my  hand  on  that 
boy's  shoulder,  and  said, '  You  are  my  boy  now, 
and  I  will  be  to  you  as  1  would  have  another  be 
to  my  lad  at  home.' 

"  He  told  me  afterwards  that  was  the  first 
battle  that  he  ever  lost ;  and  he  owned  up,  at  the 
same  time,  that  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  glorious 
victory  for  him.  He  never  even  whimpered  at 
my  order,  '  mark  those  to  be  called  for  in  two 
years'  time,  when  the  "  Petrel "  comes  back.' 
80 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

But  we  never  called  for  'em,  and,  for  all  I  know, 
they  may  be  there  now. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  captain,  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  "  there  are  a  few  things  age  improves, 

—  if  it  does  make  old  men  and  women  out  of 
some  of  us. 

"  So,  at  last,  we  hoisted  sail,  and  started  off 
on  our  two  years'  voyage  ;  and  such  a  voyage ! 
I  '11  never  forget  it  —  nor  will  he." 

"  And  what  was  his  name,  Captain  Hussey  ?  " 
asked  one  of  the  company. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  giving  you  any  riddle,  young 
friends.  This  is  an  out-and-out  true  story,  you 
know.  Don't  be  too  inquisitive,  please,"  and  with 
this  gentle  rebuke  the  old  man  evaded  all  further 
interference  of  the  kind,  and  continued  his  story. 

"  Well,  about  that  voyage.  Let  me  tell  you 
about  it.  It  was  the  worst  one  ever  fell  to  my 
lot  in  all  my  forty  years'  experience ;  but  that 
boy  — young  man,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  call  him ! 

—  what  a  comfort  he  was  to  me  !     There  were 
hurricanes,  and  storms,  and  happenings  enough 
on  that  two  years'  voyage  to  make  a  book.     Let 
me  tell  you  about  one  storm  that  came  to  us 
about  off  Cape  Horn.     It  had  been  following  us 
for  days  and  days,  but  we  hoped  to  run  out  of  it. 

6  81 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

No  such  luck  for  us,  though !  It  came  upon  us, 
in  all  its  fury,  just  about  there. 

"  My  boy  and  I,  —  I  like  to  call  him  my  boy 
now  more  than  I  did  then,  even  ;  for  then  I  had 
a  son  of  my  own,"  and  the  old  man's  voice  had  a 
tremolo  in  it.  Some  of  his  hearers  knew  of  the 
loss  of  that  boy  of  Captain  Hussey's,  and  had 
often  heard  of  the  time  when,  after  the  battle  of 
Fair  Oaks,  the  name  of  George  Hussey  had  led 
the  list  of  the  missing,  and  he  was  never  more 
heard  of. 

"  But  there,  there,"  said  the  old  man,  "  this 
will  never  do ;  and  you  all  want  to  hear  about 
the  voyage  of  the  '  Petrel,'  don't  ye  ? " 

A  nodding  of  heads  intimated  that  the  interest 
of  his  audience  was  not  waning,  despite  the  old 
captain's  digressions. 

"  Well,  my  boy  and  I  had  a  good  many  long 
talks  together,  and  I  found  out  what  kind  of 
stuff  he  was  made  of,  and  that  there  was  a  lot 
of  good  in  him.  One  day,  I  told  him  if  a  storm 
should  come,  we  must  face  it  like  men,  for  there 
was  no  back  door  of  escape  at  sea. 

"  And  the  storm  came  ! 

"  It  beat  and  blew  as  I  never  heard  it  before, 
and  never  want  to  again.  Why,  sometimes  I 
82 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

wish  I  was  deaf,  like  old  Dunham,  here ;"  .and 
he  turned  toward  the  latter,  still  propping  up 
his  left  ear  with  the  same  commendable  patience, 
although  it  was  very  doubtful  if  the  captain's 
story  was  in  the  least  understood.  "  Yes,  I  some- 
times wish  I  was  blind,  even,  like  my  old  friend, 
Swain,  yonder,"  and  again  he  turned  to  his  other 
companion,  whose  eyes  were  forever  closed  to 
the  beauties  of  sea  and  land.  "  For,  if  I  were 
deaf  and  blind,  I  could  rid  myself  of  the  sound 
of  that  tempest,  that  I  seem  to  hear  even  nowa- 
days, and  the  sight  of  those  waves,  which  haunt 
me  still ;  for,  ugh !  how  they  bore  us  about, 
then,  up  and  down,  down  and  up,  till  we  felt 
like  a  chip  in  a  pail  of  water. 

"  We  cut  away  the  masts  ;  we  cleared  away 
the  hamper,  and  then  just  waited,  for  I  told  the 
crew  that  we  had  done  all  there  was  to  be  done. 
But  that  boy  —  well,  there  was  no  braver  man 
aboard  than  he. 

"  Once  he  said  to  me,  *  Well,  captain,  if  we 
go  to  the  bottom,  we  won't  have  to  look  about 
for  the  red  lights  of  the  fire  escape  nor  hunt  up 
a  back  door,  for  there  is  n't  one,  as  you  was  say- 
ing,' —  such  pluck  ! 

"  But  we  were  saved !  and  I  often  think  of 
83 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

the  coolness  of  that  boy.  Why,  he  seemed  to 
have  an  influence  over  the  sailors,  I  never  could 
account  for ;  although  one  of  them  said  after- 
wards to  me,— 

" '  Captain,  I  did  n't  propose  to  be  beat  by 
that  chit  of  a  boy,  and  so  I  got  braver  with  every 
wind  that  blew.' 

"  But  we  got  home,  safe  and  sound,  as  you 
see,"  concluded  the  captain. 

'•  And  the  boy  ?  the  young  man  ?  what  of 
him  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  interested  company  of 
listeners. 

';  What  became  of  him  ? "  repeated  the  cap- 
tain. "  Oh,  he  married  in  a  few  years  ;  and 
I  've  heerd  say  that  he  used  often  to  tell  his  own 
boys  the  story  of  how  he  was  purified  by  old 
Captain  Shubael  Hussey  ;  but,  bless  you!  he  did 
his  share. 

"  Once  in  a  while,  one  of  his  sous  comes 
down  here  in  his  handsome  yacht,  and  drops 
anchor  in  our  harbor,  I  'm  told  ;  but  of  course 
he  has  n't  any  use  for  an  old  barnacle  like  me. 
But,  bless  my  stars,  now !  if  I  don't  see,  this 
very  minute,  his  yacht  off  there,  opposite  the 
Point,  yonder.  Why,  it  must  have  dropped 
anchor  during  the  night, —  and  I  doff  my  hat 
84 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

to  her  for  the  sake  of  '  auld  acquaintance.' " 
And  the  old  man  arose  to  his  feet,  and  touched 
the  rim  of  his  weather-beaten  tarpaulin  as  if  in 
respectful  salute  to  the  new-comer  in  the  harbor. 

"  And  you  may  as  well  doff  your  hat  to  her 
captain,  too,  my  good  friend,"  said  a  young 
man  of  the  waiting  company. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,  that  I  will,"  replied  the  old  salt, 
"  when  I  see  him." 

"Look  at  him  now,  then,  sir,"  said  the  speaker ; 
and  Captain  Hussey  studied  very  attentively  the 
young  man,  who  stood  with  outstretched  hand, 
waiting  to  grasp  that  other  of  his  father's  friend, 
of  whom  he  had  often  heard. 

"Then  you've  heerd  that  story  before,  I 
reckon,  have  n't  you,  young  man  ?  "  said  Cap- 
tain Hussey,  as  he  took  the  latter's  hand, 
and  shook  it  with  a  hearty  will,  that  forcibly 
emphasized  his  words,  "You  are  your  father's 
own  image,  and  I  love  him,  and  every  one  that 
belongs  to  him." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  young  man.  "  I  have 
heard  that  story  time  and  time  again,  until 
Captain  Shubael  Hussey  of  the  '  Petrel '  has 
become  the  patron  saint  of  our  home.  Here, 
here,  captain,  is  a  letter  from  that  same  '  boy/ 
85 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

that  I  was  told  to  deliver  before  night,  to 
you.  Father  waits  now  for  you  aboard  the 
'  Sea-Gull,'  out  yonder.  He  is  not  quite  well, 
of  late  ;  but  he  was  determined  to  come  down 
here,  if  only  to  see  you  once  more,  he  said.  1 
am  afraid  it  will  be  his  last  sea-voyage.  Come, 
the  tender  waits,  and  my  father  is  still  more 
eagerly  waiting  for  his  old  friend.  Come." 

u  Why  can't  we  start,  too  ? "  said  Harold 
Macy,  who  was  one  of  the  merry  party.  "  Is  n't 
it  breezing  up,  captain,  just  a  bit  ?" 

'•  Yes,"  said  Captain  Hussey  ;  "  there  's  a 
cat's  paw,  sure  enough.  Should  n't  wonder  if 
you  had  quite  a  breeze  before  long ;  but  here 's 
hoping  that  you  '11  never  have  such  a  wholesale 
one  as  promised  to  wreck  the  '  Petrel '  and  her 
mysterious  passenger."  And  Captain  Hussey 
prepared  to  follow  in  the  steps  of  the  young 
man,  then  turned  again  for  "  just  a  few  last 
words." 

"  Young  folks,  I  don't  want  you  to  go  away 
thinking  I  did  n't  have  any  trouble  with  him 
at  all.  Why,  that  would  be  too  much  to  ex- 
pect. Oh,  I  often  had  to  tell  him  that  he 
would  know  more  when  he  got  older.  You 
see,  some  boys  have  an  idea  it  is  manly  to 
86 


Sea  Reminiscences. 

do  at  twenty  as  their  father  did  at  forty. 
Think  they  know  at  twenty  all  that  it  took 
their  father  twice  that  time  to  learn  by  expe- 
rience. While  a  girl  —  well,  a  girl  at  sixteen 
thinks  she  knows  more  then  than  she  rarely 
ever  comes  to  know  at  all !  Your  pardon, 
young  folks,"  said  Captain  Hussey,  in  leaving ; 
"  but  take  an  old  sailor's  advice,  and  learn  to 
handle  a  jack-knife  before  you  try  your  skill 
at  a  marlinspike." 

With  this  parting  injunction,  the  old  man 
went  down  to  the  wharf  where  the  "  Sea  Gull's  " 
tender  stood  in  waiting,  with  its  white-capped 
crew,  utterly  forgetting,  as  he  got  aboard,  the 
"  crick  in  his  back,"  of  which  he  was  always 
telling. 

The  young  people,  too,  encouraged  by  their 
captain,  who  had  waited  for  them  all  this 
time,  began  to  stow  themselves  away  on  the 
deck  of  the  trim  little  sailboat,  whose  white 
sails  filled  to  catch  every  cat's  paw  of  whatever 
size,  large  or  small ;  and  the  holiday  party  were 
on  their  way,  their  musical  voices  floating  over 
the  water,  to  the  tune  of  "  Merrily  we  roll  along." 

To  Rosemary,  there  was  one  voice  of  sweetest 
harmony  missing,  and  Daisy ,  Wilder,  although 
87 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

absent  from  her,  was  a  close  companion  in  her 
thoughts.  But  the  day  was  by  no  means  with- 
out its  attendant  pleasures.  The  dinner  on 
shore,  although  primitive  in  its  serving,  was 
commendable  for  its  appetizing  menu.  The 
walk  on  the  beach,  and  the  return  sail  home, 
all  helped  to  make  Rosemary's  last  day  of 
summer  a  happy  one. 

The  little  garden-boat  still  held  its  fragrant 
treasures,  and  Rosemary  walked  about  them 
with  a  last  lingering  look  and  the  consciousness 
that  the  salvia  and  the  marigold  must  bloom 
without  her  care  and  approving  glance.  She 
looked  at  them,  as  if  to  friends  to  whom  she 
was  bidding  a  last  "  good-bye  "  with  the  uncer- 
tainty of  the  future  over  them.  Again,  she 
studied  her  little  garden,  now  thinking  how 
best  she  could  convey  to  Daisy  Wilder  the 
message  which  her  own  heart  prompted,  that 
she  was  never  —  nor  would  ever  be  —  forgot- 
ten. Tenderly  she  fondled  the  blossoms,  and 
as  her  eye  discerned  one  fairer  to  her  above 
all  others,  she  took  it  from  its  hiding-place, 
and  enclosed  to  her  absent  friend  a 

WHITE  PANSY. 


Sea  Reminiscences. 


Pansy. 

Tender  Thought. 


0  little  Pansy,  ivhite, 

Go  thou  to  her,  and  say 
My  thoughts  are  hers,  all  night 

And  all  the  livelong  day  ! 
Within  thy  velvet  leaves, 

Her  very  self  I  trace ; 
For  Love,  the  Artist,  weaves 

Dear  fancies  round  her  face  ! 

Grace  Le  Baron. 


Vs,  V* 

p^p^^w 

v^%k^±i 


SCHOOLDAYS 


4 


in. 

SCHOOL-DAYS. 

RED    EOSE  —  WHITE    ROSE.      WAR  —  SADNESS. 

WHAT  a  host  of  memories  cluster  around 
that  first  night  away  from  home !  Does 
any  girl  ever  forget  that  loneliness  which  came 
with  it  ?  —  that  conflict  that  was  hers ;  that 
striving  to  be  a  woman  when  only  a  girl's 
heart  beat  in  response  to  her  resolutions,  —  and 
the  tears  would  come ! 

Is  there  a  boy  but  will  ever  remember  that 
first  visit  to  the  old  farm,  off  among  the  hills, 
and  the  time  when  he  started  away  from  home, 
full  of  the  anticipated  delight  of  the  hayrack 
ride,  or  the  fishing  trip  with  his  country  cousins, 
feeling  himself  quite  a  little  man  ;  only  to  realize, 
when  bedtime  came,  that  an  inexpressible  some- 
thing was  tugging  at  his  heart ;  and  that  there 
was,  too,  something  missing  from  his  holiday 
pleasure,  because  he  could  not  tell  mother  or 
father  of  his  new  happiness,  and  "brother  Jack" 
was  not  at  his  side,  to  make  merry  with. 
93 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

Yes,  even  Daisy  Wilder,  the  merry-hearted 
Daisy,  was  to  have  such  a  memory.  Little  she 
dreams  it,  though,  now,  as  with  a  heart  recon- 
ciled to  study,  she  boards  the  train  for  Hillside, 
where  she  is  to  become  a  pupil  of  the  "  Misses 
Bagley's  Fashionable  Boarding-School." 

Father  and  mother  have  come  to  the  station, 
to  see  her  started  on  her  journey.  Their  solem- 
nity does  not  seem  to  affect  Daisy's  usual  gay 
spirits  ;  for  is  she  not  in  the  "•  heyday  of  youth  "  ? 

"  Good-bye,  mamma  !  Good-bye,  papa  !  "  she 
calls  from  the  car-window,  and  adds  in  a  semi- 
dramatic  voice,  "  Ye  that  have  tears,  prepare  to 
shed  them  —  to-morrow  !  " 

And  the  train  speeds  on  to  its  destination. 

"  The  Misses  Bagley's  Fashionable  Boarding- 
School  "  was  a  thought  evolved  out  of  the  brains 
of  the  two  spinster  sisters,  in  order  that  they 
might  earn  a  livelihood,  and  at  the  same  time 
secure  for  themselves  the  old  homestead,  which, 
when  they  first  commenced  their  venture,  was 
so  heavily  mortgaged  that  the  villagers  said  that, 
"  before  long,  even  Abigail  and  Lucindy  Bagley 
would  have  to  become  part  and  parcel  of  the 
goods  and  chattels  of  old  Deacon  Simpkins." 
94 


School-Days. 

The  homestead  itself  was  an  old  Colonial  house 
in  truth,  —  not,  as  in  the  fashion  of  to-day,  a  new 
old  Colonial  house,  but  a  genuine  affair,  whose 
pedigree  was  easily  traced  by  its  architecture 
alone,  even  did  not  tradition  help  to  establish  it. 
The  spacious  rooms  would  have  made  the  so- 
called  "  Colonials  "  blush,  in  invidious  compari- 
son. Queer  little  cupboards,  built  into  the  wall, 
hid  themselves  in  unseen  places  everywhere. 
The  great  hall,  well  deserving  its  name,  ran  the 
entire  length  of  the  old  house,  and,  by  the  way, 
was  the  only  feature  of  the  past  preserved  in 
its  entirety  by  the  Misses  Bagley,  in  planning 
for  the  future  use  of  the  old  Bagley  homestead, 
and  its  transformation  into  the  "  Misses  Bagley's 
Fashionable  Boarding-School." 

When  the  sisters  returned  after  long  years 
to  take  up  their  abode  where  they  had  only  until 
then  spent  their  summers,  the  village  folk  won- 
dered "what  it  all  meant?"  Then,  recalling 
that  their  father, "  Squire  Bagley,"  as  the  towns- 
people called  him,  had,  through  reverses,  died 
almost  bankrupt,  the  curious  came  very  near  to 
the  truth  in  their  guessing,  when  they  circulated 
the  report  that  the  sisters  had  come  "  to  save  the 
homestead  from  the  hammer.",  But  how  ? 
95 


Twixt  You  and   Me. 

The  first  move  of  the  Bagleys  was  to  make  of 
the  large  square  rooms  on  either  side  of  the  wide 
hall,  recitation-rooms.  Upstairs,  the  great  bed- 
rooms were  divided  into  smaller  ones,  and  the 
tall  old  clock  in  the  hallway  was  soon  sounding 
its  curfew  to  the  youthful  occupants  of  these 
same  little  bedrooms ;  for,  before  the  villagers 
had  hardly  time  to  set  aright  their  thinking 
caps,  "  The  Misses  Bagley's  Fashionable  Board- 
ing-School "  became  a  reality,  —  a  stern  reality, 
it  might  be  said  ;  for  whatever  other  virtues  the 
sisters  may  have  had,  they  were  no  more  fitted 
to  guide  the  youthful  mind  than  they  were  to 
drive  the  plough. 

So  it  is,  often,  that  strength  misdirected 
becomes  a  weakness,  that  not  only  destroys  its 
own  good  intentions,  but,  as  well,  makes  others 
to  reflect  its  failure. 

And  it  was  to  such  a  home  of  learning  as  this 
that  Daisy  Wilder  was  destined.  She  ensconced 
herself  in  the  cars,  with  an  air  of  resignation,  it 
must  be  said,  rather  than  one  of  anticipation. 
She  tried,  again  and  again,  to  interest  herself  in 
the  reading  of  "  Midsummer  Night's  Dream," 
but  to  her  distorted  fancy,  it  became  a  night- 
mare, and  Puck,  himself,  a  grim  ogre.  Each 
96 


School-Days. 

whistle  of  the  engine  seemed  to  disturb  her 
peace,  and  bring  her  nearer  to  her  fate  ;  for  in 
no  other  way  could  she  look  upon  her  entrance 
to  the  "  Misses  Bagley's  Fashionable  Boarding- 
School." 

At  last  "Hillside!"  was  announced;  and, 
by  the  aid  of  the  obsequious  porter,  whose  palm 
had  been  crossed  by  a  silver  piece,  before  start- 
ing, by  Mr.  Wilder,  Daisy  was  assisted  to  the 
platform,  bag  and  baggage. 

Standing  as  if  in  bewilderment  at  what  to  do 
next,  she  turned  to  face  a  man  who  looked  as  if 
he,  too,  might  have  been  an  antique  relic  of 
Colonial  days.  His  dress  was  a  shabby  genteel 
livery,  of  what  once  had  been  plum-color.  He 
saluted  Daisy  with  great  deference,  saying,  in 
an  interrogatory  way,  "Miss  Wilder  of  Boston 
for  the  Misses  Bagley's  School  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Daisy,  glad  enough  to  find 
some  way  to  turn  with  a  certainty. 

"The  carriage  is  here,  miss,"  said  the  anti- 
quated-looking coachman ;  and  as  Daisy  was 
about  to  enter  the  equally  antiquated-looking 
conveyance  that  stood  in  waiting,  a  voice  from 
within  gave  her  greeting:  "Pupil  Number  Ten 
Miss  Wilder  of  Boston,  welcome." 
7  97 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

As  Daisy  heard  herself  thus  addressed,  she 
had  hard  work  to  control  her  feelings  at  the  odd 
greeting ;  for  the  ridiculous  always  appealed  to 
her  sense  of  appreciation.  Was  she  to  be  a 
piece  of  merchandise  only  in  her  new  home  ? 
she  thought. 

"  At  least,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  there  are 
nine  others  to  be  companions  of  my  misery." 
And  then  an  instant's  thought  went  out  to  that 
lonely  one,  Pupil  Number  One,  who  would  never 
know  how  many  were  to  keep  her  company. 
"  Poor  girl !  "  she  sighed. 

While  James,  the  antiquated-looking  coach- 
man, was  busy  arranging  at  his  feet  Daisy's 
small  pieces  of  baggage,  Daisy  herself  had  time 
to  study  more  closely  her  companion ;  evidently 
one  of  the  Misses  Bagley,  she  had  already  de- 
cided, even  before  that  personage  had  announced 
herself,  saying,  "  One  of  us,  my  sister  or  myself, 
always  comes  to  the  station  to  meet  our  pupils. 
I  am  Miss  Lucindy." 

"  If  this  is  the  '  one  of  us,'  what  can  the 
other  be  like  ? "  thought  Daisy,  as  she  looked 

O  •!    ' 

again  at  her  quaint  companion,  for  Miss  Lu- 
cindy might  easily  have  been  taken  for  a  well- 
preserved  "  Betsey  Trotwood." 


School-Days. 

Her  angular  features  were  surrounded  with 
a  wealth  of  hair,  that,  at  Miss  Lucindy's  age, 
suggested  borrowed  property.  The  latter  was 
worn  in  short  curls  at  the  front,  that  refused 
to  retain  their  curl,  even  under  cover  of  the 
long  veil,  embroidered  with  sprigs  of  flowers 
that  were  as  faded  as  their  originals,  now 
drooping  from  the  first  frost  of  October.  The 
whole  rusty  affair  Miss  Lucindy  gathered,  or 
clutched,  rather,  in  her  gaunt  hands.  These 
same  hands  wore  their  ever-constant  covering 
of  black  mitts.  Some  there  were  who  averred 
that  Miss  Lucindy  wore  these  mitts  because 
of  her  modesty,  while  others  whispered  among 
themselves  that  they  were  simply  coverings  to 
"  two  of  the  homeliest  hands  ever  bestowed 
upon  a  daughter  of  Eve."  The  Paisley  shawl 
wrapped  about  Miss  Lucindy's  shoulders  was, 
like  the  rest  of  her  costume,  a  reminder  of 
"  ye  long  ago,"  —  a  long  ago,  be  it  said,  in 
which  the  sisters  always  liked  to  live,  even 
though  the  indisputable  mark  of  "  shabby  gen- 
teel "  was  upon  them  and  all  their  worldly 
possessions. 

Poor  Daisy !  She  felt  that  now  she  had 
found  one  who  would  curb  her  desire  for  even 
99 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

the  most  innocent  of  fun  and  frolic ;  and  her 
resolutions  came  thick  and  fast,  that  she  would 
lend  herself  to  her  much-despised  companions, 
her  books,  if  only  that  she  might,  the  sooner, 
graduate  from  "  The  Misses  Bagley's  Fashion- 
able Boarding-School,"  which,  alas !  she  was 
now  only  entering. 

With  a  precision  of  speech  never  before  at- 
tempted by  her,  Daisy  answered  meekly  all  the 
questions  put  to  her  by  Miss  Lucindy. 

"  Miss  Wilder,"  said  the  latter,  "  is  this  to  be 
your  first  boarding-school  life?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  meekly  replied  Daisy,  adding 
under  her  breath,  "  and  if  I  ever  get  out  of 
this  alive,  it  will  be  my  last !  " 

"  Miss  Wilder,"  again  said  Miss  Lucindy, 
"  always  answer  me,  *  Yes,  Miss  Lucindy,'  or 
'  No,  Miss  Lucindy,'  as  the  case  may  be,  will 
you?" 

"  Yes,  ma  —  yes,  Miss  Lucindy,"  replied  Daisy, 
again  submissively. 

And  this  "  prunes  and  prism "  conversation 
was  continued  until  the  arrival  of  the  carriage 
at  the  Bagley  homestead.  Poor  Daisy  had  all 
the  way  kept  up  another  conversation  with  her 
inner  self.  She  felt  it  would  not  be  long,  de- 
100 


School- Days. 

spite  all  her  good  resolutions  when  she  left 
home,  before  she  would  have  to  send  to  her 
absent  friend,  Rosemary  McBurnie,  her  mes- 
senger to  tell  of  impending  —  yes,  already 
threatening  —  disgrace  !  And  she  even  found 
herself  anticipating  such  a  way  out  of  her 
present  unhappiness  of  spirit. 

So  it  is  that  from  us  all  goes  out  that  silent 
though  still  speaking  influence  to  those  about 
us,  for,  like  Daisy  Wilder,  many  a  young  per- 
son has  had  the  whole  current  of  her  life 
turned  aside  into  a  turbulent  stream,  by  that 
other  who  at  the  going  down  of  her  sunset  of 
life,  has  had  to  recognize  that  she  has  followed 
the  wrong  guidepost,  which  led  her  to  the  end 
of  her  journey,  and  seen  that  her  milestones 
of  disappointment  have  proved  stumbling-blocks 
in  the  way  of  success  for  herself  and  her 
neighbor. 

Daisy's  reveries  were  brought  to  an  end  by 
her  arrival  at  Bagley  Hall,  —  the  abbreviated 
name  for  the  Misses  Bagley's  Boarding-School, 
where  she  was  confronted  by  the  other  Miss 
Bagtey,  whose  Christian  name  was  Abigail. 
That  other  proved  equally  tall,  equally  angu- 
lar in  face  and  feature,  equally  quaint,  and  — 
101 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

equally  forbidding  in  manner.  The  headgears 
of  the  two  seemed  to  be  the  only  discriminating 
feature.  Miss  Abigail's  was  a  marvel !  Jute 
everywhere,  • —  in  puffs  at  the  side,  curls  at 
the  neck,  and  an  indescribable  topknot,  that 
could  be  likened  to  nothing  else  but —  jute  ! 

Extending  her  hand  to  Daisy,  her  long  bony 
fingers  closed  about  the  latter's  small  hand 
with  a  grip  that  Daisy  used  afterwards  always 
to  insist  meant  to  say,  "  Now  I  've  got  you," 
and  Daisy  felt  that  with  two  such  mistresses  to 
serve,  she  could  love  neither, —  and  prayed  that 
she  might  not  hate  both  ! 

Miss  Abigail  repeated  her  sister's  form  of 
welcome,  saying,  "  Pupil  Number  Ten,  Miss 
Wilder  of  Boston,  welcome.  Be  seated,  Miss 
Wilder." 

There  was  no  cordiality  in  the  greeting,  no 
bond  of  sympathy  that  could  unite  the  hoyden- 
ish  Daisy  with  such  an  element  of  frigidity ; 
and  the  girl,  with  the  same  submission,  seated 
herself  in  a  low  high-backed  chair,  to  wait  for 
- —  what  she  knew  not.  Hers  only  to  obey,  and 
she  did  so. 

Looking  about  the  little  reception-room  (which, 
by  the  way,  had  once  been  the  pantry  of  the 
102 


School- Days. 

old  homestead),  Daisy  studied,  with  a  newborn 
awe,  the  straight-backed  chairs,  and  the  old 
family  portraits  of  the  Bagley  ancestors  hang- 
ing upon  the  wall. 

"  Shades  of  their  ancestors,  I  suppose,"  said 
Daisy  to  herself,  as  she  studied  more  closely  the 
silhouettes  of  the  female  line,  with  their  high- 
backed  combs  and  puffed  hair,  and  inwardly 
decided  that  these  very  pictures  must  have 
offered  suggestions  for  hairdressing  to  the  Misses 
Bagley.  And,  too,  the  ruffled  shirtfronts  of  the 
male  progenitors  of  the  Bagley  line  seemed, 
to  Daisy's  already  prejudiced  eye,  no  less  stiff 
and  precise  than  were  the  faces  and  manners  of 
their  descendants,  with  whom  now,  alas !  her 
lot  was  cast. 

In  this  way,  Daisy  sat,  it  seemed  to  her,  for 
hours,  although  the  old  clock  on  the  hall  landing, 
in  truth,  only  rang  out  but  one  quarter  of  an 
hour.  Then,  leading  the  way,  Miss  Lucindy 
preceded  Daisy  to  one  of  the  little  bedrooms 
above  stairs,  upon  whose  door  was  that  significant 
number,  "  Ten,"  witli  which  the  latter  had  now 
become  familiar.  But  Daisy  took  heart,  as  she 
noticed  its  companion  number,  "  Eleven,"  by  its 
side. 

103 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

Opening  the  door,  Miss  Lucindy  said,  "  Your 
room-mate  will  arrive  to-morrow.  Tea  will  be 
served  at  six  o'clock  sharp !  "  And  with  this 
parting  injunction  and  a  marked  emphasis  upon 
the  last  word,  as  if  to  say,  "  Disobey  upon  your 
peril !  "  and  in  a  manner  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  her  Puritan  ancestors,  Miss  Lucindy 
left  Daisy  to  herself  and  her  thoughts. 

"  And  this  is  a  fashionable  boarding-school," 
said  Daisy,  aloud,  as  she  surveyed  the  furnish- 
ings of  "  Room  Number  Ten  and  Eleven,"  —  fur- 
nishings which  seemed  to  dispute  their  claim 
to  any  fashion  but  those  of  "ye  long  ago," 
however. 

"  Everything  in  twos,"  said  Daisy,  again,  as 
she  noted  the  two  dressing-cases,  side  by  side, 
which,  in  her  ignorance  of  Chippendale,  conveyed 
only  the  idea  of  "  up  garret  "  to  her.  Two  brass 
candlesticks,  one  on  each  dressing-case,  guarded 
the  two  square  pincushions  whose  coverings, 
Daisy  had  to  allow,  were  very  pretty,  even  if 
quaint  in  their  suggestion  of  old-time  fancy-work, 
as  done  by  her  great-grandmother ;  the  rose, 
covering  the  top  of  them  had  its  petals  shaped 
by  a  padding  of  wool,  that  filled  out  the  flower 
and  made  of  the  cushion  an  ornamental  as  well 
104 


School-Days. 

as  a  useful  article.  Two  beds,  neatly  covered 
with  white  —  immaculately  white  —  knitted 
quilts,  appealed  to  Daisy's  tired  limbs  and 
longing  heart ;  but,  no,  there  was  that  "  tea  at 
six  o'clock  sharp  !  "  and  Daisy  was  now  under 
orders. 

As  she  walked  about  the  little  room,  towel  .in 
hand,  trying  to  remove  the  signs  of  travel,  her 
eyes  were  arrested  by  a  card  tacked  to  the  door, 
upon  which  she  read  :  — 


RULES  AND   REGULATIONS  OF   THE  MISSES 
BAGLEY'S  FASHIONABLE  BOARDING-SCHOOL. 


nxx/u4y 
tfuA/v 
ja/u/jcuZk'  cLu/u/rujp  t£vt/uV  £^o/i/p  cut  IScucy- 


Authority  !  read  Daisy  again.  Was  she  not 
already  bound  by  the  chains  of  compulsory  obe- 
dience ?  "  Where  are  the  death's  head  and  bones, 
I  wonder  ?  I  have  half  a  mind  to  put  them 
there,"  she  said.  And  here  was  the  very  key- 
note of  the  Misses  Abigail  and  Lucindy  Bagley's 
failure  in  life,  —  authority  !  An  authority  never 
105 


'Twixt  You  and   Me. 

tempered  by  that  close  companionship  between 
teacher  and  pupil  that  makes  love  a  law,  and 
law  a  voice  of  love. 
Daisv  read  further  :  — 


o/t 
u-ott  cx/t  jgHyOu 


Six  thirty,  A.  M.  !  That  was  an  hour  never 
known  in  Daisy's  calendar,  for  it  had  always 
needed  the  persuasive  powers  of  mother  and 
father  and  her  maid  Charlotte,  to  bring  her  to 
the  breakfast-table  at  eight  o'clock. 

"  Dinner  at  twelve,"  she  read  again.  To  one 
like  Daisy,  used  to  a  fashionable  seven  o'clock 
dinner,  a  dinner  at  twelve  seemed  a  very  primi- 
tive custom  to  follow. 


ou/t  a/t  Cx/cpnA/  truA/to 


And  so  read  the  rules  and  regulations  of  Bag- 
ley  Hall.     Truly  a  new  life  was  opening  to  Daisy 
Wilder   with   her    entrance    into   the   "  Misses 
Bagley's   Fashionable    Boarding-School,"  where 
106 


School-Days. 

love  was  wanting  for  the  perfection  of  that 
life. 

"  Six  o'clock  !  "  sounded  out  ominously  from 
the  tall  hall  clock,  as  Daisy  slowly  retraced  her 
steps  to  the  floor  below.  Miss  Lucindy,  watch  in 
hand,  stood  at  the  dining-room  door,  and,  with 
a  reproving  look  at  Daisy,  said  in  a  stern  voice, 
"  Fifty  seconds  late,  Miss  Wilder !  "  With  this 
humiliation  as  an  introduction  to  the  young- 
ladies  standing  at  table,  Daisy  joined  the  stu- 
dents who  were  to  be  her  companions  for  —  she 
dared  not  think  how  long.  Miss  Abigail,  who 
sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  made  the  presenta- 
tion of,  "  Pupil  Number  Ten,  Miss  Wilder  of 
Boston." 

As  Daisy  was  the  tardy  one  for  whom  the 
waiting  company  stood,  Miss  Abigail  gave  the 
order,  "  Be  seated,  young  ladies."  And  with 
military  precision,  the  students  obeyed,  and 
almost  involuntarily  Daisy  found  herself  count- 
ing, "  One  —  two  —  three  —  eat ! " 

The  same  regularity  betrayed  itself  in  the  fur- 
nishings of  the  table  as  of  the  rooms  above.  At 
each  plate  a  glass  of  milk  stood,  the  one  so  like 
its  neighbor  that  it  was  easy  to  conceive  that  a 
dropper  and  not  a  pitcher  was  the  measurement 
107 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

for  all.  The  bill  of  fare  was  a  very  simple  one, 
—  and  Daisy  ate  sparingly,  and,  as  never  before, 
sympathized  with  Oliver  Twist  in  his  request  for 
"  more  "  —  of  a  different  kind  ! 

It  was  a  solemn  meal,  for  all  conversation  was 
forbidden;  and  the  new  pupils, like  Daisy  herself, 
stood  in  awe  of  the  Misses  Bagley,  while  the 
older  ones  knew  too  well  the  traditions  of  the 
past  to  transgress. 

Daisy  felt  an  intuitive  pity  for  the  new  pupil, 
"  Number  Five,"  who  received  Miss  Abigail's 
admonition  to  "  Count  three  between  each  mouth- 
ful, Pupil  Number  Five,  Miss  Van  Auken  of 
New  York." 

In  short,  the  first  meal  at  the  Misses  Bagley's 
table  had  neither  the  "  stalled  ox "  nor  the 
"  herb  "  diet  to  commend  itself  to  Daisy  Wilder's 
lonely  heart.  The  only  relief  that  came  to  this 
unnatural  restraint  put  upon  her  youth  came 
with  the  hour  that  followed  the  tea,  when  Daisy 
congratulated  herself  that  a  little  of  her  old  self 
was  left  her,  and  became  at  once  a  favorite  with 
her  companions. 

At  the  given  signal  of  eight  o'clock,  the  pupils 
separated  from  each  other,  and  Daisy  sought  the 
companionship  of  her  diary,  which  she  had 
108 


School-Days. 

promised  her  mother  she  would  keep.  In  it  she 
wrote,  as  she  sighed,  "  Arrived  in  safety  ;  noth- 
ing of  note." 

But  was  there  not  something  to  note  ?  The 
misery  of  the  light-hearted  girl,  whose  loving 
nature  had  been  thus  changed  ?  Pity  her  even 
in  her  rebellion ;  pity  all  whose  hearts  cry  out 
for  sympathy,  and,  above  all,  pity  those  who 
know  not  how  to  give  it,  and  so  lose  the  half  of 
life's  real  pleasure. 

All  night  long,  Daisy  tossed  in  her  sleep.  An 
indiscriminate  procession  of  books  were  ever 
following  her  in  her  dreams,  while  two  long 
gaunt  fingers  indexed  every  page.  The  morn- 
ing dawned,  and  with  it  came  anticipations  of 
the  coming  of  some  one  —  who,  she  hoped, 
would  be  to  her  not  only  a  room-mate,  but  a 
true  confidant. 

She  busied  herself  in  unpacking  —  for  it  was 
evident  that  the  Misses  Bagley  had  no  authority 
over  the  railroad  officials,  as  Daisy's  trunk  had 
but  just  arrived  after  a  night's  delay.  One  by 
one,  she  hung  her  pretty  dresses  in  the  ward- 
robe, which  bore  that  familiar  number  "  Ten  " 
upon  its  door.  She  arranged  her  bureau  drawers 
with  great  care.  Carefully,  almost  reverently, 
109 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

she  replaced  a  pretty  pink  silk  dress  in  her 
trunk,  closing  the  lid  and  locking  such  useless 
finery  out  of  sight. 

A  knock  at  the  door !  Her  room-mate ! 
Daisy's  face  grew  brilliant  with  her  anticipa- 
tions, so  soon  to  be  realized,  as  she  responded  to 
Miss  Lucindy's  knock,  and  her  introduction  to 
"  Pupil  Number  Eleven,  Miss  Beulah  Scilley 
of  —  " 

Daisy  did  not  wait  for  any  further  informa- 
tion, but  held  out  her  hand  in  astonishment  to 
the  one,  of  all  others,  she  was  unprepared  — 
yes,  even  unwilling  —  to  meet ! 

"  Why,  Miss  Scilley,  what  a  surprise  this  is 
for  me  !  and  why  did  you  not  tell  me  last  sum- 
mer we  should  meet  here  ? "  said  Daisy. 

The  young  lady,  thus  addressed,  was  not  in 
the  least  disconcerted,  but  in  a  calm,  convincing 
manner  said,  "One  likes  to  keep  something  for 
one's  own  counsel ;  and  I  chose,  for  reasons  of 
my  own,  to  keep  my  coming  a  secret,  Miss 
Wilder." 

"  But  how  could  you  help  telling  me,  Miss 
Scilley  'i "  said  Daisy,  "  when  I  told  you,  that 
day  I  met  you  at  the  Cliff,  that  I  might  come 
here,  for  we  had  not  then  quite  decided." 
110 


School-Days. 

Daisy's  open  nature  could  not  readily  under- 
stand the  more  secretive  one  of  her  new  room- 
mate, for  the  latter,  as  is  too  often  the  case,  had 
the  unwholesome  trait  which  draws  information 
from  others,  but  never  gives  in  return. 

"  And  how  did  you  leave  them  all  on  the  dear 
little  island  ?  and  are  the  white  sails  all  close 
reefed,  and  the  rowboats  housed  for  the  winter  ? " 
asked  Daisy,  with  a  yearning  for  news,  sonic 
would  have  said,  but  which  to  Daisy  Wilder  was 
the  longing  to  hear  from  those  she  loved  and  of 
their  happiness. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Beulah,  "  there  is  less  excite- 
ment down  there ;  but  we  don't  mind  the  quiet, 
you  know." 

"  No,  I  do  not  know,"  said  Daisy,  determined, 
at  least,  not  to  be  forced  to  believe  anything 
contrary  to  her  will ;  for  had  not  her  cousin 
Harold  Macy  written  her  how  lonesome  it  was, 
now  that  the  summer  colony  had  left  ? 

"  And  Rosemary  McBurnie !  Dear  Rosemary  ! 
She  is  at  home  in  New  York  by  this  time  ?  " 
eagerly  questioned  Daisy. 

"  Yes,  the  McBurnies  left  town  before  I  did," 
replied  Beulah  Scilley. 

The  conversation  became  too  hard  work  for 
111 


'Twixt  You  and  Me, 

Daisy  to  continue  longer,  for  Beulah  maintained 
her  non-committal  part,  or  rather,  told  as  little 
as  she  possibly  could  ;  and  Daisy  returned  to  her 
work  of  arranging  and  rearranging  her  worldly 
effects,  with  a  determination  that  she  would  keep 
her  secrets  too  —  if  she  ever  had  any  worth 
keeping !  for  she  was  one  whose  heart  was  open 
to  all,  whose  life  was  an  open  book,  even  though 
some  of  its  pages  were  written  in  comedy. 

With  two  such  natures  for  companionship, 
there  could  be  but  little  harmony  of  spirit,  and 
poor  Daisy  felt  her  last  hope  of  happiness  gone, 
with  Beulah  Scilley  for  a  room-mate  ;  while  the 
latter,  close  shut  within  herself,  had  a  content- 
ment of  mind  that  was  her  greatest  solace,  and 
made  her  indifferent  to  all  else,  even  to  her 
room-mate's  craving  for  companionship.  This, 
however,  the  latter  was  fortunate  in  finding  in 
Emily  Wingate,  a  Western  pupil. 

In  her  diary  alone,  did  Daisy  give  free  vent  to 
her  thoughts,  and  freedom  of  speech,  as  she 
wrote  :  — - 

"Friday  the   Fifteenth. — Beulah   Scilley   is   a 

strange  girl.    I  always  thought  so,  and  now  I  know 

that  she  is.     I  don't  understand  her,  I  am  willing 

to  confess ;  and  feel  ashamed  of  myself  when  my 

112 


School-Days. 

suspicions  lead  me  to  think,  '  Still  waters  run  deep.' 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  she  must  belong  to  the 
family  by  the  name  of  Heep.  I  do  not  and  cannot 
like  her  !  !  !  " 

The  three  exclamation  points  seemed  to  add 
an  emphasis  to  Daisy's  written  words,  quite 
satisfactory  to  her,  for  she  closed  the  book  and 
said, "  Now,  I  '11  see  how  much  of  a  prophet  I  am. 
Miss  Scilley,  I  can  wait !  " 

Another  day  she  wrote  :  — 

"  Tuesday  the  Fourth.  —  Of  course  if  there  is  any 
mischief  going  on,  I  am  always  thought  to  be  the 
ringleader  by  the  Misses  Bagley.  One  thing  cer- 
tain :  I  shall  always  confess  my  wrongdoings,  and 
not  leave  suspicion  to  rest  on  an  innocent  girl.  We 
had  a  little  midnight  luncheon  in  our  room,  four  of 
us,  — that  is,  four,  counting  Beulah  Scilley,  —  but 
she  told  Miss  Lucindy  that  she  had  to  be  there, 
because  she  was  in  bed,  and  could  not  sleep.  Yes, 
of  course  she  was  in  bed ;  but  I  desire  to  record 
that  she  ate  just  as  much  oil  on  her  sardines  as 
the  rest  of  us  !  But  she  looks  so  meek  and  hum- 
ble, Miss  Luciudy  believes  in  her  every  time  ! " 

Thus  went  life  at  the  "  Misses  Bagley's  Fash- 
ionable Boarding-School,"  where  the  laws  of  the 
"  Medes  and  Persians  "  prevailed ! 
8  113      ^ 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

Daisy  Wilder  was  the  favorite  of  her  com- 
panions, if  not  of  her  teachers.  Her  honest, 
ingenuous  nature  gave  her  an  envied  popularity. 
Every  girl  —  every  girl  but  one,  at  least  —  was 
ready  to  be  her  champion,  if  necessity  demanded 
it,  which  threatened  at  times  ;  for  was  she  not, 
as  Mrs.  McBurnie  wisely  said,  "  one  to  be  guided 
by  love,  not  law  "  ?  Not  that  her  disobedience 
of  laws  should  be  condoned,  but  one  could  wish 
that,  for  a  nature  like  Daisy's,  a  loving  hand 
might  temper  its  discipline  to  such  an  over- 
exuberance  of  spirits. 

A  diet  of  bread  and  water,  and  "  solitary  con- 
finement," were  better  adapted  for  the  criminal 
than  for  young  ladies  who,  like  Daisy,  deserved 
correction  ofttimes,  but  not  the  chastisement  of 
the  nursery,  or  the  punishment  of  the  prison- 
house.  It  was  on  one  of  these  days  of  exile  for 
Daisy  that  the  pupils  were  holding  an  indignation 
meeting. 

Listen  to  the  proceedings  of  that  hour. 

The  subdued  voice  of  Mary  Bumstead  calls 
the  meeting  "  to  come  to  order,"  while  she  thus 
addresses  the  girls  assembled  in  her  room : 
"  Schoolmates,  we  are  called  together  to  redress 
wrongs  —  serious  wrongs  —  done  to  a  beloved 
114 


School-Days. 

companion ;  for  why  should  Daisy  Wilder  be 
sent  to  her  room  on  bread  and  water,  just  be- 
cause she  was  a  connoisseur  of  coffee  ? " 

A  titter  went  through  the  room  ;  and  Daisy 
Wilder  became  a  martyr,  to  the  girls  assembled 
in  her  defence. 

Mary  Bumstead  continued,  "  Did  not  we 
need  a  connoisseur  of  coffee,  I  ask  you  ? " 
(Cries  of  "  Yes,  yes,  long  ago  !  ")  "  And  now, 
just  because  Miss  Wilder  tied  a  package  of  a 
new  brand  of  Java  and  Mocha  mixed,  —  mind 
you,  the  very  best !  —  on  the  handle  of  Miss 
Abigail's  room-door,  for  that,  must  Miss 
Wilder's  only  beverage  for  to-day  be  water  ? 
It 's  a  shame,  a  burning  shame !  "  (Cries  of 
"  Shame  !  shame  !  "  were  heard  from  every 
corner  of  the  room.) 

Miss  Bumstead  continued  :  "  Why,  Miss  Abi- 
gail ought  to  be  thankful  it  was  not  chiccory, 
like  what  is  served  to  us  every  morning." 
(Cries  of  "  That  's  so  !  "  interrupted  the 
speaker.)  "  Will  some  one  make  a  motion 
in  favor  of  Miss  Wilder's  release  ?  "  said  Mary 
Bumstead. 

As  one,  the  group  of  girls  asked  to  be  heard, 
and  the  motion  was  "  moved  and  seconded." 
115 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

"  To  ask  Miss  Abigail  Bagley  not  only  to 
unloose  the  bars  from  prison  cell  Number  Ten, 
but,  as  well,  to  send  at  once  a  bowl  of  that 
same  mixed  Java  and  Mocha  to  Miss  Wilder, 
—  the  inmate  of  that  cell,  now  spending  '  one 
day  in  solitary  confinement.' "  And  the  ayes 
had  it! 

"  And  now,"  continued  the  presiding  officer, 
"  let  a  committee  be  appointed  from  the  floor 
to  present  in  due  form  this  petition." 

Just  at  this  point,  the  swish-swish-swish  of 
Miss  Abigail's  bird's  eye  silk  announced  the 
coming  of  that  "  august  body."  A  knock  at 
the  door !  Silence  reigned  for  the  moment,  — 
which  moment  was  given  up  to  deciding  who 
should  be  the  one  to  open  the  door ;  and  a 
series  of  pantomimes  indicated  that  Mary  Bum- 
stead,  in  whose  room  the  meeting  was  being 
held,  should,  as  was  her  duty  of  hostess  of 
Room  Number  Three,  respond  to  the  knock, 
and  —  Miss  Abigail  entered. 

With  a  searching  look  about  the  room,  she 
impressed  upon  her  brain  the  name  of  every 
girl  present.  "  What  does  this  mean,  young 
ladies  ? "  said  the  visitor.  "  Is  this  the  way 
you  devote  your  hour  to  study,  —  like  this,  in 
116 


School-Days. 

idle    gossip  ?      Explain    your    position,    young 
ladies,  I  command  you !  " 

By  another  series  of  pantomimes  and  glances, 
one  to  the  other,  Miss  Bumstead  was  again 
declared  the  one  as  best  suited  for  spokes- 
man of  the  hour.  Awed  at  the  responsibility 
imposed  upon  her,  but  thinking  that  her  love 
for  Daisy  was  some  justification  for  the  present 
insubordination,  she  began  her  little  speech. 
Her  voice  trembling  with  half-mingled  fright 
and  emotion,  she  addressed  herself  to  Miss 
Abigail,  whose  frigid  manner  only  helped  to 
emphasize  the  sense  of  the  meeting  voiced  by 
the  speaker. 

"  Miss  Abigail,"  she  said,  "  this  meeting  was 
called  in  behalf  of  our  beloved  schoolmate, 
Miss  Wilder,  now  suffering  the  penalty  of  sol- 
itary confinement  in  Room  Number  Ten." 

Here  Miss  Abigail  closed  tighter  her  thin 
lips,  and  stood  as  immovable  as  the  Sphinx. 

"  We  feel,"  continued  Miss  Bumstead,  "  that 
the  punishment  is  too  heavy  for  her  offence ; 
and  we  ask  also  to  be  released  from  our  share 
of  the  punishment,  that  comes  to  us  with  the 
thought  of  her  loneliness,  making  our  own 
doubly  hard  to  endure." 
117 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

A  new  light  seemed  to  shine  in  Miss  Abigail's 
cold  gray  eye.  Was  this  a  rebellion  against 
her  better  judgment  ?  or  was  it  only  a  confession 
of  love  from  the  girls  for  Daisy  Wilder  ? 

Still  no  word  escaped  from  the  thin  lips, 
and  Miss  Bumstead  continued  her  plea :  "  That 
Miss  Wilder  committed  the  offence  credited  to 
her,  we  must  believe,  for  Miss  Wilder  has 
already  confessed  to  it ;  but  that  she  was  not 
the  only  transgressor,  we  also  believe  ;  for  how 
did  Miss  Wilder  procure  the  coffee  ?  She  must 
therefore  have  had  an  accomplice,  if  such  you 
wish  to  call  the  messenger  who  brought  to  her 
the  package  found  at  your  door.  Who  was  that 
messenger?  Miss  Wilder  refuses  to  tell  her 
name,  but  says  that  the  commission  was  exe- 
cuted by  another  ;  but  should  she  not,  whoever 
she  may  be,  share  in  the  punishment  already 
inflicted  upon  Daisy  Wilder,  whom  we  love  ?  " 

This  argument  seemed  to  appeal  to  Miss  Abi- 
gail's sense  of  justice  ;  while  the  fact  that  an- 
other culprit  deserved  her  masterly  hand  of 
discipline  turned  her  thoughts  into  a  direction 
tbat  seemed  to  favor  Daisy  Wilder's  chances  for 
pardon  and  release. 

The  girls  themselves  thought  they  saw  a  sig- 
ns 


School-Days. 

nificant  nodding  of  the  jute  curls,  and  Miss 
Bumstead  went  on:  "Further,  Miss  Abigail, 
we  politely  urge  that  a  bowlful  of  that  coffee 
be  carried  to  Miss  Wilder  by  her  room-mate, 
Miss  Beulah  Scilley,  who  is  not  present  at 
this  meeting,  but,  no  doubt,  is  within  earshot 
of  it !  " 

This,  of  course,  was  meant  as  an  arrow  to 
reach  the  ear  of  Miss  Beulah  Scilley,  who,  be  it 
said,  had  been  standing  just  outside  the  door  of 
Room  Number  Three  from  the  commencement 
of  the  indignation  meeting. 

"  Further,"  concluded  Miss  Bumstead,  "  we 
would  suggest  that  some  of  that  same  Java  and 
Mocha  mixed  be  substituted  to-morrow  morning 
for  the  chiccory  served  us  at  breakfast." 

An  embarrassing  silence  followed.  The  com- 
pany of  girls  appeared  as  if  they  thought  Miss 
Bumstead  had  exceeded  her  authority,  but  to 
the  latter  the  justification  of  her  suggestion 
seemed  to  be  in  the  application ;  for  many 
times  of  late,  committees  of  one,  two,  or  three 
had  labored  with  the  Misses  Bagley  to  give  their 
pupils  a  better  morning  beverage,  only  to  be 
told  that  "  chiccory  was  less  harmful,"  although 
the  two  streaming  bowlfuls  of  coffee  always 
119 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

served  to  the  sisters  seemed  to  go  to  prove  that 
while  they  might  be  right  in  theory,  in  practice 
they  were  all  wrong.  It  had  been  this  very 
failure  to  bring  about  good  results  from  fair 
methods,  that  was  responsible  for  the  ignoble 
deed  that  brought  to  Daisy  Wilder  her  punish- 
ment of  "  solitary  confinement  on  bread  and 
water." 

At  the  close  of  Miss  Bumstead's  words,  Miss 
Abigail  gave  her  rebuke,  saying,  "Young  ladies, 
I  am  surprised  at  this  meeting  of  open  rebellion 
to  your  teachers,  and  the  rules  of  the  school. 
You  may  adjourn  to  your  respective  rooms  until 
I  consult  with  Miss  Lucindy." 

Later,  the  swish-swish-swish  of  the  bird's  eye 
silk  was  heard  in  the  corridor  above ;  and  a 
knock  at  the  door  of  Room  Number  Ten  brought 
Daisy  to  respond  to  it,  and  face  to  face  with  Miss 
Abigail  Bagley.  The  latter  seated  herself,  unin- 
vited, and,  pointing  to  a  chair  beside  her,  inti- 
mated to  Daisy  to  do  the  same,  which  she  did, 
her  face  betraying  the  wonderment  she  felt  as 
to  what  might  be  the  cause  of  this  unexpected 
visit. 

"  Miss  Wilder,"  said  Miss  Abigail,  "  I  have 
just  learned  that  another  should  be  a  party  to 
120 


School-Days. 

your  punishment,  as  she  has  already  been  one 
in  the  offence  that  has  brought  you  the  humilia- 
tion ;  and  I  have  come  to  say  that  if  you  will 
give  me  the  name  of  that  person  you  shall,  in 
return,  receive  full  pardon  from  my  sister  and 
myself." 

Miss  Abigail  waited  for  Daisy's  reply.  The 
latter  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  which 
was  not  much  at  best,  but  in  dignity  she  stood 
far  above  her  caller,  to  whom  she  replied, "  Miss 
Abigail,  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness,  for  I  am 
sure  you  intended  it  as  such,  but  —  " 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  accept  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Abigail,  anticipating  the  girl's  refusal. 

"  No,  Miss  Abigail,"  continued  Daisy.  "  I 
must  decline  your  proposal,  as  I  have  declined 
many  times  to  give  the  name  you  ask,  to  my 
schoolmates.  I  am  willing  to  bear  this  punish- 
ment, for  I  know  that  I  have  done  wrong,  and 
deserve  it ;  but  if  you  were  to  extend  my  days 
of  confinement  to  months,  leaving  me  alone  with 
my  thoughts,  I  could  not  even  then  do  as  you 
wish  me  ;  and  I  beg  that  you  will  not  think  me 
stubborn  in  my  refusal." 

"  Then  I  am   to   understand,  Miss   Wilder," 
said  Miss  Abigail  as  she  arose  to  go,  "  that  you 
121 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

refuse,  positively,  to  co-operate  with  me  in  pre- 
serving order  and  punishing  its  offenders  ?" 

ki  Yes,  Miss  Abigail,"  said  Daisy,  in  her  honest 
way,  "  in  the  manner  you  suggest.  I  should  de- 
spise myself  if  I  became  a  tale-bearer.  I  can  only 
take  care  of  my  own  conscience,  and  that  gives 
me  trouble  enough.  I  know  that  I  have  done 
wrong ;  but,  oh,  Miss  Abigail,  I  am  not  the  same 
as  when  I  left  home  !  I  am  so  unhappy  !  Please, 
please,  forgive  me,  Miss  Abigail  ;  and  I  promise 
you  I  will  try  to  do  differently !  Won't  you 
have  faith  in  me  and  forgive  me  ? "  but  Daisy, 
as  she  looked  into  the  stolid  face  of  Miss  Abigail, 
began  to  fear  that  she  must  soon  give  up  all  hope 
for  pardon  from  that  source. 

Miss  Abigail  offered  no  reply,  but  still  Daisy 
continued  her  bit  of  special  pleading,  "  But, 
Miss  Abigail,  truly  I  did  not  at  the  time  realize 
my  rudeness,  as  I  know  that  1  should  have.  I 
am  not  attempting  any  excuses.  I  am  only 
acknowledging  my  offence,  and  asking  you  to 
have  confidence  in  my  good  resolutions  for  the 
future.  I  am  not  deceitful,  Miss  Abigail,  what- 
ever else  I  may  be,  and  please  do  not  blame  me 
for  every  one's  misdemeanors  ;  and  you  know, 
I  asked  you  and  Miss  Lucindy  a  great  many 
122 


School-Days. 

times,  some  of  them  as  a  committee  from  the 
students,  to  give  us  coffee  and  not  chiccory  for 
breakfast, — just  like  that  you  drink." 

Yes,  Miss  Abigail  remembered  well  those 
special  pleas,  and  had  as  persistently  ignored 
them ;  for  still,  the  discrimination  had  been 
made  between  the  real  and  the  unreal,  the 
teacher  and  the  taught,  while  the  latter  had 
tried  their  utmost  to  follow  the  precept  of  Saint 
Paul,  "  to  eat  what  was  put  before  them,  and 
ask  no  questions  for  conscience'  sake,"  -  -  al- 
though at  times  patience  and  conscience  would 
rebel  at  a  "  Squeers'  diet."  And  this  was  the 
outcome ! 

Without  a  word  of  encouragement,  Miss  Abi- 
gail left  Daisy  alone  with  her  thoughts  again; 
but  who  shall  say  that  the  latter  did  not  gain 
the  respect  of  Miss  Abigail  by  her  honesty  in 
firmly  refusing,  with  scorn,  the  name  and  office 
of  a  tale-bearer  ?  Surely  there  must  have  been 
some  happy  change  of  heart,  for  Miss  Abigail, 
not  long  after  her  exit,  sent  the  message  to 
Room  Number  Ten  to  "  Tell  Miss  Wilder  to 
join  her  class  in  the  recitation-room  below." 

That  night  Daisy  wrote  in  her  diary  in  large 
letters :  — 

123   > 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

"  Tempted  but  Saved  !  To-day  I  have  spent  alone 
in  my  room  ;  but  was  I  really  alone  ?  —  with  this 
troublesome  conscience  of  mine  always  telling  me 
of  my  wrongdoings,  and  what  an  unruly  scholar  I 
am  ?  but,  oh !  how  I  should  have  hated  myself  if  I 
had  gained  my  freedom  —  at  —  whose  expense  ? 
No,  I  will  not  even  tell  you,  my  silent,  confidential 
companion.  It  is  not  for  me  to  be  a  keeper  of 
another's  conscience.  My  own  makes  fuss  enough 
for  me  !  It  is  always  whispering  in  my  ear ;  but 
sometimes  it  is  too  late  to  save  me. 

"  And  all  this  for  a  poor  little  chiccory  seed,  — 
poor  harmless  little  thing  !  But  that  is  the  way, 
very  often,  it  is  the  trivial  things  of  life  that 
sometimes  make  the  most  trouble. 

"  And  Miss  Abigail  would  not  forgive  me  !  Does 
she  hope  to  be  forgiven,  I  wonder  ?  But,  then,  I 
pity  her,  and  Miss  Lucindy  too,  after  all,  for  they  are 
not  really  to  blame  for  having  lived  so  many  years 
that  they  can't  remember  when  they  were  young!  " 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  Daisy  took  a  little  sat- 
isfaction in  writing  this  latter  truism,  although 
she  might  have  recorded  her  resolution  to  try  to 
give  her  sympathy  in  the  true  spirit  to  the  two 
spinsters,  whose  hearts  were  already  warming 
to  their  rebellious  subject,  for  her  honesty  and 
her  penitence.  Did  they  not  forgive  —  as  they 
best  knew  how  ? 

124 


School-Days. 

Before  Daisy  went  to  her  little  bed  that  night, 
she  selected  from  the  vase  of  flowers  which  her 
companions  had  sent  to  her  room  —  one,  two 
blossoms,  and  enclosed  to  Rosemary  McBurnie 

A  RED  ROSE  AND  A    WHITE  ROSE. 


125 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 


Red  Rose. 

War. 
White  Rose. 

Sadness. 


Oh,  the  red  rose  is  a  warrior  : 

And  the  ichite  rose  is  its  bride. 
And  together,  they  fight  the  battle,  — 

Yes,  together,  side  by  side. 

In  the  battle  of  Life  are  conflicts 

'  Twixt  Right  and  the  tempter  Wrong ; 

When  the  bravest  of  warriors  falter, 
And  mourning  follows  the  song. 

'T  is  nobler  to  grieve  for  an  error, 

Than  boldly  defy  the  Right  : 
For  a  sin,  confessed  in  sorrow, 

Is  half  of  a  well-fought  fight  ! 

Grace  Le  Baron. 


126 


IV. 

HOLIDAY  PLEASUKES. 

JAPONICA  —  IMPATIENCE  OF  ABSENCE. 

A  ND  in  due  time  the  two  roses,  with  unspoken 
•£*•  yet  ever-speaking  messages,  fell  at  Rose- 
mary's feet,  as  she  unfolded  the  wrapper  about 
them.  Stooping,  she  tenderly  lifted  them  to 
her  lips,  interpreting  their  message  :  "  Poor  dear 
Daisy !  in  trouble,  but  not  in  disgrace.  In  tears, 
but  not  in  blushes."  And  she  quietly  returned 
the  faded  roses  to  their  envelope. 

Despite  all  evidence  to  the  contrary,  however, 
Rosemary  would  not  accept  any  other  belief  than 
that  which  her  loyal  friendship  prompted,  and 
refused  to  entertain  any  other  idea  than  the  one 
which  comforted  her  so  much,  —  to  believe  that 
the  war  cloud  which  hovered  over  Daisy  Wilder 
and  the  latter's  school-day  life  at  Bagley  Hall 
was  other  than  the  shadow  of  an  hour,  which 
would  be  dispelled  by  the  hand  of  Justice  before 
many  sunsets.  Rosemary  so  expressed  herself 
to  her  mother,  at  the  same  time  urging  that 
9  129 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

Daisy  be  invited  to  visit  them  for  the  coming 
holiday  week ;  and  permission  having  been  asked 
of,  and  granted  by,  Mrs.  Wilder  in  due  form, 
Daisy  made  her  preparations  for  her  coming 
week  of  pleasure  ;  for,  she  thought,  "  it  will  be  a 
pleasure  just  to  hear  the  voices  of  old  friends,  and 
to  know  that  I  am  trusted  and  understood." 

Xor  was  she  long  in  telling  her  room-mate  of 
her  vacation  plans.  The  latter  received  the  news 
in  the  same  spirit  of  stolid  indifference  that  had 
been  hers  ever  since  her  first  coming  to  Bagley 
Hall.  But  Daisy  felt  that  her  anticipated  hap- 
piness would  make  amends  for  all  the  disagree- 
able things  in  her  present  life,  even  for  the 
sarcasm  in  Miss  Abigail's  parting  injunction,  "  I 
trust,  Miss  Wilder,  that  the  New  Year  will  bring 
to  you  a  change  of  heart  at  least." 

And  Daisy  echoed  the  sentiment !  Again  she 
would  be  the  light-hearted  girl  that  she  was  but 
a  few  short  weeks  before.  And  with  this  thought 
she  entered  upon  her  holiday  week  with  the 
McBurnies  hoping  that  its  spirit  of  "  peace  and 
good-will "  would  come  to  her  as  a  benediction 
upon  her  holiday  life,  and  as  a  blessing  to  be 
taken  with  her  when  she  should  again  resume 
her  school  duties  at  Bagley  Hall.  With  such  a 
130 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

responsive  helper  as  her  waiting,  willing  heart, 
it  was  no  difficult  matter  to  hope,  to  reason, 
that 

"  The  darkest  day,  live  till  To-morrow, 
Will  have  passed  away." 

The  reunion  of  the  two  friends  could  be  none 
other  than  it  proved,  —  one  of  helpfulness  to 
Daisy,  and  happiness  to  both  :  a  happiness  whose 
only  detraction  lay  in  the  thought  that  it  was 
but  for  seven  short  days ;  but  each  day  had  its 
joys,  and  Rosemary  and  Harold  Macy  vied  with 
each  other  to  make  those  seven  days  seven  jew- 
elled ones  in  Daisy  Wilder's  vacation  calendar. 

Yes,  Harold  Macy  had  had  his  anticipations 
of  summer  realized !  His  one  desire  had  been 
to  come  to  the  city ;  to  be  relieved  from  the  tire- 
some lullabies  of  the  ocean.  Those  two  ambi- 
tions, which  were  but  as  one  desire,  had  been 
gratified  ;  but  there  lurks  in  his  heart  a  long- 
ing to  tread  those  despised  cobble-stones  once 
again  ;  for,  as  is  often  the  case,  our  expectations 
are  sometimes  more  gratifying  than  the  goal  of 
our  anticipations. 

Indeed,  some  nights  after  the  lad  has  retired 
to  his  room,  —  that  room  where  Contentment 
131 


'Tvvixt  You  and  Me.  : 

has  not  yet  come,  —  his  heart  has  longed  for  the 
lullabies  of  the  ocean's  song,  and  he  sighs  for 
the  home  of  his  childhood ;  but  he  aspires  to  be 
a  man,  and  men  must  not  be  boys,  he  tells 
himself.  Still,  he  has  not  as  yet  been  trained 
enough  in  the  world's  ways  to  forget  that  home 
of  his  boyhood. 

"  Only  a  few  months  before  I  shall  have  a 
vacation,  too,  Cousin  Daisy,"  he  said. 

"  And  you  will  go  —  where  ?  —  to  the  moun- 
tains, I  suppose :  no  waters  there  to  make  you 
miserable,"  said  Daisy,  in  irony. 

"  To  the  mountains  !  "  repeated  the  home- 
sick lad :  "  not  much,  Cousin  Daisy.  Why, 
there  is  "but  one  place  to  live  in." 

"  But  how  do  I  know  that  you  and  I  agree 
in  giving  that  first  prize,  Harold  ? "  asked  his 
cousin. 

For  reply,  the  latter  made  answer,  "  That  one 
place  is  —  Home  !  Shall  I  meet  you  on  the  Cliff 
next  summer  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  I  hope  to  be  there,"  replied  Daisy ; 
then,  in  her  usual  bantering  way,  she  said,  "  But 
surely,  Harold  Macy,  you  are  not  going  down 
to  that  tiresome  place." 

"  Oh,  poke  your  fun  at  me,  Cousin  Daisy ;  I 
132 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

deserve  it  all.  But  I  have  changed  my  mind ; 
1  can  say  with  you  to-day,  '  That  many  a  night 
I  go  to  bed,  thinking  I  hear  the  waves  beating 
on  the  beach,  plashing  and  dashing,  and  they 
sing  me  off  to  sleep  with  their  lullaby.'  So  we 
three  will  meet  there  again,  — '  in  thunder, 
lightning,  and  in  rain.'  Is  that  so,  Rosemary  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Rosemary ;  "  at  high  tide, 
at  low  tide,  with  the  wind,  or  without  it.  In- 
deed, I  am  quite  ready  to  go  now,  and  to  meet 
you  on  that  happy  shore." 

A  look  in  the  girl's  face  told  of  that  readi- 
ness, that  sighing  for  rest  on  that  happy  shore 
of — Home  !  Rosemary  had  studied  with  a  zeal 
for  new  honors,  and  they  had  been  hers  ;  but, 
alas !  her  pale  cheeks  told  the  sacrifice,  just 
as  her  pale  lips  confessed  her  willingness  to 
rest.  She  longed  for  the  breezes  to  bring  to 
her  the  bloom  of  restored  health.  She  longed 
for  the  pretty  flower-garden.  She  longed  for  — 
Home.  At  present,  however,  her  one  desire 
must  be,  as  it  was,  to  give  pleasure  to  her 
guest.  She  varied  the  programme  daily,  and  was 
always  proud  to  introduce  to  her  circle  of 
acquaintances,  "  Miss  Wilder  x>f  Boston." 
133 


'Twixt  You  and  We. 

An  unusual  pleasure  was  hers  to  announce 
one  clay :  "  Miss  Yickard  is  in  the  parlor, 
Daisy.  She  wishes  to  meet  with  you.  Will 
you  come  down  ?  She  has  brought  us  an  invi- 
tation to  go  to  the  Memory  Club,  which  meets 
to-morrow  afternoon.  Shall  we  accept  ?"  asked 
Rosemary  of  her  guest  a  day  or  two  after  the 
hitter's  arrival. 

'•  Why,  certainly,  Rosemary,  accept,  of  course  ; 
that  is,  if  it  is  agreeable  to  you.  But  what 
is  the  Memory  Club  ?  and  what  is  it  working 
for,  —  charity?"  asked  Daisy. 

'•  From  what  I  have  heard,  I  should  say  that 
charity  did  not  enter  into  its  by-laws  ;  but  I 
must  confess  that  I  am  interested  to  know 
more  about  the  Club,  which  is  really  town  talk 
in  these  days,"  replied  Rosemary. 

"  Its  name  is  very  suggestive  to  me,"  replied 
Daisy.  "  It  carries  me  back  to  my  earliest  days 
in  the  Grammar  School,  when  I  had  to  learn 
a  '  Memory  Gem,'  as  it  was  called,  and  be  put 
on  exhibition  every  time  any  visitor  came  to 
the  school,  until  I  used  to  wish  that  poetry 
and  poets  had  died  with  the  old  Greeks !  Let 
me  see  if  I  can  remember  the  one  over  which 
I  almost  lost  my  reason.  Why,  it  cannot  be  that 
134 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

I  have  forgotten  it,  for,  oh,  how  I  stumbled  over 
its  words  almost  daily !  Let  me  see  —  Ah, 
here  it  is. 

'  Life  is  a  sheet  of  paper  white, 
Whereon  each  one  of  us  may  write 
His  word  or  two  — 

And  then  comes  —  Night ! ' 

The  teacher  always  wanted  me  to  say  4  leaf ' 
instead  of  *  sheet,'  hut  as  Mr.  Lowell  wrote  it 
in  my  autograph  album  '  sheet,'  I  felt  that  I 
had  the  best  authority  for  using  the  word, 
and  I  always  did ;  and  Miss  Woodside  always 
corrected  me.  Of  course  I  thought  she  was  disa- 
greeable, and  I  know  that  I  was  both  disagree- 
able and  stubborn,  too.  I  wonder  if  the  Memory 
Club  is  anything  of  the  kind.  An  animated 
game  of  Authors  —  like !  or  is  it  a  funereal 
affair  with  Hie  Jacet  for  the  Club  motto  ? " 
asked  Daisy,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  that  I  really  do  not  know,  Daisy,"  said 
Rosemary.  "  We  will  have  to  find  out  all  about 
it  from  Miss  Vickard.  Come  down  to  the  parlor 
and  question  her.  Come,  Daisy."  And  a  few 
moments  later  Daisy  entered  the  parlor  to  be 
presented  in  due  form  to  "  Miss  Georgine 
Vickard." 

135 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

The  conversation  of  the  hour  soon  led  up  to 
the  desired  subject  of  clubs,  and  Miss  Yickard 
said  to  Daisy,  "  I  suppose  you  belong  to  a  good 
many  clubs,  .Miss  Wilder.  It  is  quite  the  fashion 
in  your  town,  I  hear." 

"  Not  one,  Miss  Yickard  !  not  even  to  a  fash- 
ionable sewing-circle,"  replied  Daisy.  "  I  may 
be  a  curiosity  in  your  eyes,  but  I  must  say  that 
I  never  knew  that  the  fashion  of  clubs  was  a 
fashion  of  Boston  alone.  It  is  all  over  the  coun- 
try and  spreading  like  the  whooping-cough  !  " 

"  And  you  do  not  even  belong  to  a  whist 
club?"  asked  Miss  Yickard.  "Why,  it  has 
become  a  bit  of  local  tradition  that  everybody 
plays  whist  in  Boston." 

"  You  may  make  an  exception  then,  Miss 
Yickard,  in  my  favor.  But  then,  you  know  that 
I  am  too  young  to  have  many  interests  beside 
my  books." 

True,  as  Daisy  said  this,  there  did  come  to  her 
the  faintest  conviction  that  perhaps  she  was 
giving  a  wrong  impression  to  her  caller,  and 
leading  the  latter  to  think  that  her  interest  in 
books  was  the  proverbial  one  credited  to  the 
"  town "  of  Boston,  as  Miss  Yickard  insisted 
upon  calling  it. 

136 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

"  When  I  am  older,  perhaps  I  may  belong  to 
as  many  clubs  as  a  friend  of  mamma's,  who  is  a 
member  of  twenty-seven,"  said  Daisy. 

"  Twenty-seven ! "  repeated  Miss  Vickard  in 
astonishment.  "  Twenty-seven  !  I  did  not  sup- 
pose that  you  had  so  many  in  the  whole  town." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Daisy.  "  You  know  Boston 
is  a  city  now  !  It  was  made  so  —  in  eighteen 
hundred  and  twenty-two." 

That  Miss  Vickard  accepted  Daisy's  mild 
rebuke  was  evident ;  for  from  that  moment 
Boston  became  to  the  former  an  incorporated 
city.  "  Yes,  yes,  I  forgot,"  said  Miss  Vickard, 
apologetically  ;  and  Daisy  tried  to  be  charitable, 
and  think  that  the  former  was  guilty  of  a  lapsus 
linguce,  rather  than  of  an  intentional  offence  to 
Boston  and  its  loyal  champion. 

" 1  have  just  been  inviting  Miss  McBurnie  and 
you  to  attend  with  me  the  meeting  of  the  Memory 
Club  to-morrow  afternoon.  It  is  to  meet  with 
Miss  Van  Bibber." 

"  And  what  is  the  Memory  Club,  Miss  Vick- 
ard ? "  interrupted  Rosemary  ;  "  and  what  do 
you  do  at  its  meetings  ? " 

"  Oh,"  replied  her  visitor,  "  our  Club  is  very 
exclusive,  you  know.  It  is  really  very  difficult 
137  *x 


'Tvvixt  You  and  Me. 

to  enter  it  as  a  member."  It  was  very  evident 
that  to  Miss  Georgine  Vickard  admission  into 
the  exclusive  Memory  Club  was  the  one  thing- 
needful  in  life  for  happiness. 

"  But  what  do  you  do  at  your  meetings  ?  "  per- 
sistently asked  Daisy.  "  What  is  the  object  of 
the  Memory  Club  ?  Is  it  charity  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  indifferently  replied  the  visitor ; 
"  ours  is  purely  a  club  for  the  pleasure  of  its 
members.  You  see  we  have  so  many  '  Charity 
Clubs,'  that  we  have  not  many  of  the  very  poor 
in  our  city  to  look  after." 

Of  this  Daisy  was  not  so  easily  convinced,  and 
felt  there  were  yet  "  legions  "  to  be  found  who 
had  only  "  the  mansion  not  made  with  hands, 
eternal  in  the  heavens,"  —  for  an  inheritance ; 
but  she  did  not  question  the  words  of  Miss 
Vickard,  and  simply  asked,  as  twice  before, 
"What  is  the  object  of  your  Club?" 

"  Its  object  ? "  repeated  Miss  Vickard.  "  Why, 
its  very  name  tells  you :  for  immortalizing  the 
memory  of  our  forefathers  and  foremothers. 
We  have  a  Club  Poet,  who  —  " 

"  Who  writes  the  obituaries  and  epitaphs,  I 
suppose,"  said  Daisy. 

But  Miss  Vickard  ignored  the  intrusive  ques- 
138 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

tion  and  continued,  "  Who  writes  poems  and  the 
like  for  us  ;  and  a  Club  Historian,  who  — 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  understand  now,"  interrupted 
Daisy ;  "  you  are  really  a  class  in  Ancient 
History  —  " 

"  Yes,"  promptly  replied  Miss  Vickard  ;  "  if 
you  choose  to  call  us  that ;  and  the  more  ancient 
the  information  read  before  us  the  more  desir- 
able an  acquisition  is  its  author  as  a  member  —  " 

"  Which  is  not  always  the  case,  is  it  ? "  said 
Daisy.  "  Usually  such  a  member  of  society  is 
considered  an  old  bore.  And  —  whose  forebear 
is  going  to  be  embalmed  to-morrow  ?" 

For  the  moment  Miss  Vickard  hesitated,  as 
though  debating  if  she  should  answer  Daisy's 
question ;  but  pride  in  the  fashionable  Club  of 
the  day  overruled  her  momentary  indignation, 
and  she  replied,  "  The  President  of  the  Club  is 
going  to  read  a  paper  about  her  great-great- 
great  —  " 

"  There,  there !  "  exclaimed  the  irrepressible 
Daisy,  "  she  need  not  go  any  further  back  in  her 
family  history  to  interest  me.  I  just  detest 
antiques, — whether  as  fossil  remains  or  ceram- 
ics !  and  then  in  these  days  there  are  so  many 
reproductions  and  imitations !  New  editions  for 
139  ' 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

me,  of  everything !  I  presume  I  am  cut  out  for 
'  a  new  woman.'  But  what  about  this  multiplied 
great  and  grand  (for  of  course  he  or  she  must 
be  grand  to  have  a  descendant  in  your  Club  !) 
father  or  mother  of  your  President?"  asked 
Daisy.  "  We  want  to  be  prepared,  you  know, 
to  do  homage  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  just  know,"  said  Miss  Vickard. 
"  He  did  something  deserving  '  honorable  men- 
tion ; '  but  anyway,  he  had  the  yellow  fever  seven 
times,  I  heard  our  President  say." 

"  And  yellow  is  such  a  trying  color  to  the 
complexion !  "  said  Daisy,  substantiating  the 
truth  of  her  confession  to  Rosemary,  that  it 
would  take  more  than  three  months  of  Bagley 
Hall  to  crush  out  all  her  inborn  mischief.  "  It 
must  rise  again,  Phrenix-like  !  "  she  avowed. 

To  Miss  Vickard,  however,  Daisy  was  a  mis- 
nomer, and  she  turned  to  Rosemary  in  despair, 
saying,  "  Your  friend,  Miss  Wilder,  is  positively 
incorrigible,  is  she  not,  Miss  McBurnie  ?" 

For  reply,  Rosemary's  face  took  on  the  old- 
time  expression,  which  had,  as  always,  the  power 
to  check  Daisy's  hectoring,  and  the  latter  stopped 
her  teasing ;  not,  however,  before  the  interest  of 
both  had  become  excited  in  the  Memory  Club, 
140 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

and  Rosemary  and  Daisy  accepted  Miss  Vick- 
ard's  invitation  to  be  its  guests  on  the  morrow. 

At  the  hour  appointed  Miss  Vickard  called 
for  the  two  girls,  in  all  the  splendor  and  ele- 
gance of  riches,  as  indicated  in  the  gilt  cockade 
on  the  coachman's  hat  and  the  clanking  of  the 
shining  brass  chains  of  the  Vickard  equipage. 

On  the  way,  Miss  Vickard  explained  to  her 
guests  that  the  Executive  meeting  preceded  the 
open  one.  "  But  then,"  she  said  —  "  that  will  be 
a  short  one,  and  soon  over  with.  I  am  sorry 
that  I  cannot  invite  you  to  it,  but  it  is  one 
of  Secret  Session,  and  its  doings  are  strictly 
confidential !  " 

As  Miss  Vickard  made  her  explanation,  one 
might  have  supposed  the  affairs  of  a  nation 
were  to  be  settled  at  the  meeting  of  the  Execu- 
tive Board  of  the  Memory  Club,  for  nothing 
short  of  some  great  international  question  could 
have  had  so  perceptibly  the  "  Importance  "  as 
indicated  in  Miss  Vickard's  tone  and  also  in  the 
notices  which  called  together  the  meeting  of  the 
afternoon. 

The  music-room  of  the  Van  Bibber  Mansion 
was  the  one  in  which  this  important  meeting 
was  to  be  held.  Off  in  one  corner  a  silk  em- 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

broidered  screen  —  which  bore  on  the  one  side 
the  figure  of  Peace  bearing  the  symbolical  olive- 
branch  ;  and  on  the  other,  that  of  Mars  in  all 
his  glory  and  trappings  of  war  —  was  drawn 
about,  that  the  Executive  might  hold  its  Secret 
Session. 

Daisy  and  her  companion  could  but  note  the 
propriety  in  the  arrangement  of  the  piece  of 
handiwork  ;  for  Peace  smiled  serenely  upon 
them,  while  Mars  presided  over  the  doings  of 
the  Board  ;  and  only  the  screen  separated  the 
silent  from  the  active  members.  For  with  Rose- 
mary and  Daisy  sat  a  half-dozen  or  more  other 
guests,  who  had,  like  them,  been  invited  for  the 
afternoon,  and,  like  them,  shut  out  from  the 
doings,  but,  alas !  not  from  the  hearings,  of  the 
Secret  Session  about  to  be  held. 

Three  o'clock  was  the  hour  set  for  that  hear- 
ing ;  but  as  the  cuckoo  clock  in  the  Tan  Bibber 
hall  sounded  that  warning  call  long  before  Rose- 
mary and  Daisy  took  their  seats,  evidently,  too, 
punctuality  did  not  enter  into  the  by-laws  of  the 
Memory  Club.  "  It  was  exactly  half-past  three 
as  the  cuckoo  flies,"  before  a  quorum  was  found 
to  have  arrived,  and  the  chattering  of  that  quorum 
could  only  be  likened  to  a  tree  full  of  magpies. 
142 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

Indeed,  it  was  surprising  that  it  could  have  been 
counted  at  all,  for  the  Babel  of  voices  was  such 
as  might  easily  have  disturbed  the  best  of 
mathematicians  ;  but  seven  there  were  on  the 
one  side  of  the  screen  in  battle-array,  with  Mars 
as  their  leader ;  and  ten,  on  the  other,  witli 
Peace  in  their  unwary  hearts.  And  the  Secret 
Session  was  about  to  open  in  all  its  seeming  im- 
portance —  and  formality. 

In  the  absence  of  the  President  of  the  Club 
(who,  by  the  way,  had  sent  word  that  she 
"  would  come  to  the  meeting  at  the  close  of 
the  Symphony  and  after  she  had  been  to  the 
dressmaker's "),  Miss  Morris,  the  First  Vice- 
President,  took  the  chair,  and  prepared  to  open 
the  meeting. 

Yes,  she  took  the  chair  !  and  again  and  again 
she  took  it,  as  again  and  again  she  arose,  fum- 
bled about  in  secret  and  hidden  places  for  the 
pocket  of  her  dress,  —  which  it  had  not !  Down 
upon  her  very  knees  she  went  to  search  for 
the  gavel,  which  she  had  not,  —  but  which  she 
had  forgotten  to  bring.  "  Oh,  dear  me ! "  she 
said,  "  I  have  no  gavel.  I  forgot  to  bring  it. 
I  shall  have  to  use  this."  And  she  rapped  upon 
the  inlaid  table  with  a  long,  violet-colored  box, 
143 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

that   was   much    more   suggestive    of    Huyler's 
cream  peppermints  than  a  symbol  of  order. 

Up  and  down  went  the  long  narrow  box  !  Up 
and  down  !  Down  and  up !  but  the  buzzing  of 
the  human  magpies  still  continued,  for  were 
not  the  Treasurer  and  Secretary  deciding  the 
all-important  question,  —  "  which  was  the  more 
fashionable  fur  of  the  winter,  chinchilla  or  black 
marten  ? "  -  and  was  not  Madame  Vigeaux 
awaiting  their  decision  ? 

Finally,  by  a  forcible  rap  with  the  box,  which 
robbed  one  of  the  Cupids  inlaid  in  the  beautiful 
French  table  of  his  bow  and  arrow,  and  at  the 
same  time  betrayed  a  little  more  definitely  the 
contents  of  the  box  of  confections,  order  was 
gained  at  last,  just  as  the  echo  of  the  Treasurer's 
voice  told  that  a  decision  had  been  reached  with 
the  convincing  words,  "  Well,  I  shall  have  chin- 
chilla on  the  bottom  of  the  skirt,  anyway,  and 
a  great  big  Medici  collar  on  the  jacket !  Chin- 
chilla costs  more,  and  of  course  it  will  not  be  so 
common  this  winter." 

So  the  momentous  question  having  been  de- 
cided, everything  looked  favorable  for  the  doings 
of  the  Secret  Session  of  the  Executive  Board, 
whose  members  were  assembled  and  waiting. 
144 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

Just  as  the  Chair  was  congratulating  herself 
that  the  frail  gavel  had  accomplished  its  errand, 
the  excited  voice  of  the  Treasurer  again  inter- 
rupted. It  was  evident  that  the  chinchilla  tailor- 
made  costume  was  her  all-absorbing  thought : 
and  for  her,  at  least,  reigned,  for  the  time  being, 
supreme  over  "  by-laws  "  and  "  amendments  !  " 

"  Just  wait,"  she  said,  "  will  you  ?  Wait  a 
minute  !  until  I  see  if  I  have  brought  the  sample 
of  silk  Madame  Yigeaux  gave  me  for  the  lining 
of  my  jacket ! " 

And  the  whole  quorum  paused,  to  become  a 
committee  of  investigation  to  search  for  the 
Treasurer's  sample,  which,  had  older  eyes  been 
theirs,  would  have  needed  a  powerful  magnify- 
ing-glass  to  discover. 

"  Oh,  yes,  here  it  is  !  here  it  is  ! "  said  the 
Treasurer,  after  fumbling  about  with  a  com- 
mendable persistency  worthy  the  woman  of 
Scripture,  and  she  turned  her  coat-pockets 
back  into  shape  again,  and  with  an  "  Excuse 
me ! "  to  the  waiting  company,  took  her  seat, 
indicating  her  readiness  to  proceed  with  the 
meeting. 

With  the  call  for  "  Order,"  the  Chair  then 
announced  that  there  was  very  important  busi- 
10  145 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

ness  to  be  transacted ;  "  but,"  she  said,  u  \ve 
will  first  listen  to  the  report  of  our  Secretary." 

And  the  Secretary  arose.  She  was  a  tall, 
handsome  young  lady,  dressed  in  the  extreme 
of  fashion,  who  gave  the  idea  that  Paris  modes 
absorbed  so  much  of  her  time  that  the  prosaic 
duties  of  a  secretaryship  must  suffer  at  her 
hands,  and  —  suffer  they  did  !  as  was  evident 
from  her  confused  manner  when  she  arose  to 
respond  to  the  Chair's  bidding. 

"  Is  my  hat  on  straight  ? "  she  asked  of  her 
neighbor,  in  such  an  audible  whisper,  that  a 
chorus  of  voices  replied  to  her  question,  — 

"  Yes,  it  it  all  right ;  quite  straight.  Does 
the  buckle  go  a  little  on  the  side  ?  That  is 
where  it  is  now." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Secretary,  putting  her 
daintily  gloved  hand  to  her  head,  to  decide  the 
exact  whereabouts  of  a  certain  brilliant  buckle 
upon  "  the  latest  from  Madame  Angot." 

Then  she  adjusted  her  rimless  eye-glasses  ; 
for,  though  young,  her  pretty  eyes  were  obliged 
to  be  regulated  by  such  helpers.  She  opened 
the  book  she  held  in  her  hand, — looked,  —  then 
looked  again,  —  blushed,  and  blushed  continu- 
ally, stammered,  and  finally,  after  much  embar- 
146 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

rassment  of  manner,  made  the  whole  Executive 
to  feel  the  infection  of  her  apparent  nervousness. 

"  Dear,  dear ! "  she  said.  "  I  must  have 
brought  the  wrong  book.  I  thought  it  was  my 
Report  Book,  and  instead  of  that,  it  is  the  story 
I  have  been  reading.  I  did  not  have  time  to 
copy  my  report  of  the  last  meeting,  and  I  thought 
these  loose  papers  were  the  notes  of  it,  which  I 
put  into  my  Record  Book.  Instead,  they  are  my 
French  exercises,  and  the  book  is  one  that  I 
have  been  trying  to  finish." 

"  Oh,  let  us  see  it ! "  cried  a  chorus  of  voices. 

"  Is  it  a  good  story  ? "  asked  one  and  another. 

And  the  book  was  passed  around  for  inspec- 
tion. It  was  one  of  the  popular  books  of  the 
day,  and  the  whole  Board,  even  to  the  Chair, 
resolved  itself  into  a  "  Committee  of  Review  " 
of  the  story. 

"  Is  it  good  ?  "  asked  one. 

"  Oh,  beautiful !  It  is  his  best,  I  think,  al- 
though I  am  afraid  that  it  is  not  coming  out 
just  as  I  would  choose.  I  do  not  like  a  story 
one  bit  where  the  lovers  separate  and  live  on 
in  the  misery  of  a  '  might  have  been  ; '  and 
that  is  just  what  they  are  doing  now.  He  is 
trying  hard  to  be  sad,  and  she  is  just  pining 
147 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

away.  That  is  the  difference  between  them 
now.  But  I  think  before  long  his  misery  will 
be  as  true  as  hers,"  said  the  Secretary. 

"  Oh,  but  they  come  together  all  right !  She 
does  not  die,  but  some  marvellous  cure  comes 
to  her,  and  —  "  replied  one  who  had  read  the 
book  evidently,  but  was  interrupted  by  the  Sec- 
retary, who  said  excitedly,  — 

"  There,  please  do  not  tell  me  how  it  ends. 
I  never  like  to  be  told  how  a  story  is  coming 
out.  I  like  to  plan  it  all  out  myself,  and  some- 
times —  I  think  I  could  give  the  author  a  few 
ideas.  I  ought  to  have  been  an  author  myself, 
instead  of  a  Secretary  ;  "  and  with  a  merry  laugh 
the  delinquent  Secretary  took  a  certain  satis- 
faction in  noting  that  one  quarter  of  an  hour 
had  already  been  absorbed  in  the  criticism  of 
the  story,  and  only  three  quarters  of  an  hour 
remained  in  which  to  transact  the  important 
business  referred  to  by  the  Chair,  who,  by  this 
time,  attracted  as  well  by  the  cuckoo's  regular 
call,  gave  another  vigorous  rap  with  the  rem- 
nant of  the  box  of  sweetmeats. 

Just  at  the  moment,  however,  two  or  three 
tardy  members  of  the  Executive  bustled  in  to 
the  meeting  with  the  odor  of  violets,  and  the 
148 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

invigorating  freshness  of  the  winter  air  about 
them.  "  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Emily  ?  Good- 
afternoon,  Georgine,"  said  one  and  another, 
and,  utterly  oblivious  to  the  duties  of  the  hour, 
addressing,  too,  the  already-disturbed  occupant 
of  the  presiding  chair. 

"  Why,  good-afternoon,  Katheryn.  And  why 
did  you  not  call  for  me  ?  1  have  been  watching 
for  you  for  more  than  an  hour.  My  new  hat 
came  home  to-day,  and  I  wanted  to  show  it  to 
you.  Of  course  I  could  not  wear  it  this  after- 
noon, for  the  dampness  would  take  all  the  curl 
out  of  the  ostrich  feathers.  And  it  is  just  a 
beauty  !  You  must  see  it." 

Then  of  course  it  was  the  duty  of  the  Chair 
to  unbend  from  her  dignity,  and  explain  that 
she  had  been  a  little  late  herself,  —  a  truism  no 
one  could  deny,  since,  as  has  already  been  seen, 
the  meeting  had  been  called  a  full  half-hour 
behind  time. 

Following  this  explanation,  again  came  the 
call  from  the  Chair,  "  Order,  order."  But, 
alas !  as  she  struck  the  box  with  uncommon 
vigor,  it  yielded  to  the  blow,  and  revealed  its 
hidden  mysteries,  and  the  cream  peppermints 
chased  one  another  over  the  floor,  while  every 
149 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

member  of  the  Executive  Board  followed  the 
hunt,  searching  here,  there,  and  everywhere, 
with  a  zeal  second  only  to  that  which  they  had 
exercised  in  looking  for  Madame  Vigeaux's  in- 
finitesimal sample.  And  now  only  the  box- 
cover  remained !  and  even  that  promised  to 
vanish  into  nothingness,  under  the  persuasive 
argument  of  the  Chair  in  her  efforts  to  re- 
store, or  rather,  to  preserve,  order,  and  still 
the  important  business  was  but  a  matter  of 
speculation. 

To  the  Secretary,  standing,  in  her  humilia- 
tion, the  savory  hunt  for  the  sweetmeats  had 
been  an  interruption  fully  appreciated,  for  the 
cuckoo  had  sung  its  warning  note  again,  and 
but  a  half-hour  now  remained  !  Commanding 
all  the  self-possession  she  had,  the  Secretary 
informed  the  Chair,  that  although  she  had  left 
her  notes  behind  her,  she  still  had  a  good  mem- 
ory, and  felt  that  she  could  remember  the 
most  important  part  of  the  doings  of  the  last 
meeting. 

The  Chair,  with  the  weight  of  that  important 

business  on  her  youthful  mind,  expressed  her 

willingness  to  hear  what  the  Secretary  had  to 

say,  and  the  latter  stood,  nervously  smoothing 

150 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

the  fur  of  her  jacket  lapel,  as  if  in  admiration 
of  the  pretty  sable,  but  really  calling  up  before 
her  confused  mind  the  little  she  could,  that  had 
occurred  at  the  last  meeting,  a  month  previous. 

She  commenced  by  saying,  "  One  thing  1 
remember,  Miss  President :  we  voted  to  appoint 
a  Committee  to  plan  some  way  to  raise  money 
for  —  " 

She  was  just  on  the  point  of  giving  her  first 
piece  of  information,  when  the  real  President 
of  the  Club,  true  to  her  word,  arrived,  and  in 
all  the  majesty  of  power  —  a  power  which  be- 
trayed itself  in  her  air  of  self-importance,  as  she 
entered  with  an  amount  of  dignity  superior  to 
that  maintained  by  any  of  the  others  present. 

With  a  manner  that  seemed  to  say,  "  Make 
room  for  me,  everybody  —  I  will  regulate  now 
the  affairs  of  this  meeting,  in  true  parliamentary 
manner,"  she  addressed  herself  to  her  subordi- 
nate, the  Vice-President  presiding,  and  said,  to 
the  latter  with,  to  be  sure,  a  certain  amount 
of  deference,  behind  which  lurked  a  trace  of  her 
own  self-importance,  "  I  will  conduct  this  meet- 
ing now.  Give  me  the  gavel,  please." 

Of  course  it  was  a  most  humiliating  hour  for 
the  retiring  officer.  Should  she  offer  her  su- 
151 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

perior  in  office  the  remnants  of  the  toy  which 
she  had  been  using  ?  The  idea  was  as  prepos- 
terous as  was  its  use  ! 

In  a  very  dignified  manner,  calculated  to  share 
her  unhidden  humiliation  of  the  hour  with  her 
superior  officer,  the  Vice-President  addressed 
herself  to  the  latter,  saying,  "  Miss  President, 
had  you  sent  the  gavel  to  this  place  of  our 
meeting,  instead  of  to  my  father's  private  office, 
I  should  now  have  it  to  offer  to  you.  As  it 
is,  you  will  have  to  invent  one,  just  as  I  have 
had  to  do." 

And  the  Chair  was  declared  vacant,  with  this 
indisputable  evidence  of  the  President's  trans- 
gression of  the  conventional  rules  of  etiquette, 
and  Gushing' s  Manual !  Never  deigning  a  reply, 
however,  Miss  Alice  Curtis  took  the  chair  va- 
cated by  Miss  Katheryn  Morris,  and  for  the 
moment  it  really  seemed  as  if  the  meeting  was 
awed  into  a  silence  that  did  not  care  for  gavel 
-  or  cream  peppermints  ! 

"  And  now,"  said  the  President,  "  we  will 
continue  the  regular  business  of  the  afternoon," 
and  —  the  cuckoo  sang  its  third  note  of  warn- 
ing! "The  Secretary  will  please  continue,"  said 
the  Chair. 

152 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

Continue  !  The  words  sounded  farcical  to  all, 
even  to  the  waiting  company  on  the  other  side 
of  the  broidered  screen ;  and  they  had  all  they 
could  do  to  control  their  laughter,  which  for  the 
moment  seemed  to  threaten  a  betrayal  of  their 
knowledge  of  the  doings  of  the  Executive,  then  in 
Secret  Session.  Continue !  To  the  Secretary, 
standing,  in  her  embarrassment,  she  wished  the 
words  might  have  had  a  trace  of  the  superlative, 
and  been  interpreted  into,  —  Concluded  ! 

She  stood.  Was  she  waiting  for  another 
timely  interruption  that  would  release  her  from 
her  misery  ?  Evidently  the  Chair,  as  now  ap- 
parent to  her  young  eyes,  was  something  else 
than  a  piece  of  furniture  of  the  San  Domingo 
family,  with  its  foreign  title  of  "  Marqueterie." 

An  expression  of  awe  and  confusion  over- 
spread the  face  of  the  Secretary,  which  reflected 
itself  as  well,  in  the  faces  of  the  Executive  family- 
waiting,  as  the  President  said  with  authority, 
"  Will  the  Secretary  please  be  as  quick  as  possi- 
ble. We  have  very  important  business  for  the 
afternoon,  you  know,  unless  — "  she  hesitated  — 
"  unless  it  has  already  been  considered.  We 
wait  now  for  the  Secretary  to  finish  what  she  was 
about  to  say  when  I  entered.  What  was  it  ?  " 
153  -' 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

What  was  it  ?  Sure  enough.  What  was  it  ? 
thought  every  one. 

The  Secretary  attempted  her  answer.  "  I 
was  just  telling  the  Board,  Miss  President, 
about  the  Committee  that  was  appointed  at  the 
last  meeting  to  raise  funds  for  —  " 

Oh,  timely  interruption  !  It  came,  with  the 
yelping  and  barking  of  Miss  Van  Bibber's  little 
French  poodle,  who  had  pushed  his  way  through 
the  half-open  door,  and  entered,  in  all  his  glory 
of  blue  satin  ribbon  and  family  pedigree. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  little  fellow  !  "  "  Come  here, 
you  darling  thing  !  "  "  Oh,  where  did  you  get 
him?"  "But  isn't  he  just  a  little  beauty?" 
"  Do  let  me  take  him  !  "  were  the  exclamations 
that  were  heard  from  one  and  all  of  the  waiting 
company.  Yes,  even  the  President  herself  un- 
bent from  her  haughty  dignity,  and  attempted 
to  secure  the  little  French  darling,  who  sniffed 
and  scented  the  room  in  search  of  his  young 
mistress. 

Miss  Van  Bibber  took  him  up  in  her  lap,  and 
petted  him,  and  for  the  moment  Fido  became 
the  hero  of  the  hour ;  but  the  heroine  was  she 
in  the  guise  of  the  embarrassed  Secretary,  to 
whom  the  interruption  was  indeed  a  blessing ; 
154 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

and  she,  too,  lavished  her  affections  upon  the 
dog,  and  kissed  him  for  his  sake  —  and  for  her 
own. 

"  Where  did  you  get  him  from?"  she  asked 
Miss  Van  Bibber. 

"  We  sent  abroad  for  him  and  bought  him, 
unsight,  unseen ;  but  he  is  a  thoroughbred," 
said  Miss  Van  Bibber,  with  the  proverbial  pride 
of  all  lovers  of  dogs. 

"  And  a  pretty  penny  he  cost  you,  I  fancy," 
said  the  Treasurer,  who  was  a  little  more  in 
sympathy  with  the  waiting  Secretary  than  the 
other  members  of  the  Board  could  possibly  be ; 
for  —  was  not  her  turn  coining  next  ?  And  had 
she  not  a  deficiency  to  explain  ?  —  a  deficiency  of 
five  dollars  in  her  account ;  a  deficiency  that  had 
been  occasioned  by  her  careless  handling  of  the 
money  entrusted  to  her  ;  for  the  missing  Y  was 
already  brightening  the  home  of  the  little  Italian 
newsboy  who  found  it  at  the  street  crossing. 

Of  course,  then,  the  Treasurer,  too,  was  inter- 
ested in  the  song  of  the  cuckoo,  for  the  allotted 
hour  for  the  business  meeting  was  fast  slip- 
ping away,  and  then  would  come  the  class  in 
"  Ancient  History,"  as  Daisy  facetiously  termed 
the  doings  of  the  fashionable  Memory  Club. 
155 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Miss  Van  Bibber  to  the 
Treasurer's  question,  "  Fido  cost  us  not  a  few 
pennies.  Indeed,  more  than  we  at  first  intended 
to  squander  on  the  dear  fellow ;  but  then  he 
was  once  owned  by  a  live  countess.  The  Count- 
ess Blugot  was  once  his  mistress ;  you  know  of 
her,  of  course." 

"  Never  heard  of  her.  Was  she  a  live  count- 
ess,—  born  one,  I  mean,  —  or  only  made  one  by 
American  dollars  ? "  asked  the  Treasurer. 

The  word  "  only "  did  not,  however,  if  in- 
tended, disparage  the  Countess  Blugot's  claims 
in  Miss  Van  Bibber's  eyes,  apparently.  She 
replied,  "  Countess  Blugot  is  of  one  of  the  oldest 
regime  in  France ;  but  reverses  came  to  her 
family,  and  so  she  had  to  sell  her  horses  and 
dogs,  and  — 

"  Now,"  interrupted  the  Treasurer,  —  "  now, 
if  she  had  been  only  an  American,  perhaps  she 
could  have  kept  not  only  her  horses  and  dogs, 
but  bought  a  castle  for  her  count ! " 

Just  at  this  moment,  the  President,  who  had 
been  closely  studying  the  clock,  said,  "  I  fear 
that  we  shall  have  to  wait  until  the  next  meet- 
ing to  hear  the  Secretary's  report  of  the  Com- 
mittee appointed,  for  it  is  now  the  time  to 
156 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

adjourn  and  attend  the  open  meeting,  where 
we  are  to  listen  to  the  papers  which  some  of 
our  members  have  kindly  prepared  for  us." 

And  the  cuckoo  sang  again.  Sang  ?  He  let 
loose  his  voice  as  if  singing  a  Hallelujah  Chorus  ! 

The  Secretary  breathed  freer !  The  Treas- 
urer's pulse  became  normal  again.  Both  con- 
gratulated themselves  that  the  ignorance  of  the 
President  as  to  what  they  had  done  (and  had  left 
undone !)  counted  in  their  favor.  And  so  the 
important  business  was  still  an  untold  secret,  as 
were  the  reports  of  the  Secretary  and  Treasurer, 
for  with  the  cuckoo's  song  the  meeting  was 
declared,  "  Adjourned  !  " 

The  screen  was  carefully  folded  up  —  and  the 
open  meeting  was  called  to  "  Order." 

Even  Daisy  stood  ready  for  any  change  in  the 
programme,  and  seemed  for  the  time  to  become 
a  convert  to  ceramics  and  antiquities.  She  lent 
herself  persistently  to  hear  about  this  or  that 
hero,  who,  it  is  feared,  were  unknown  except 
in  their  family  genealogies,  whose  respective 
pages  were  illuminated  by  their  names.  But 
even  ancient  history,  despite  Daisy's  dislike  for 
books  in  the  abstract,  was  an  agreeable  change, 
in  comparison  with  the  burlesque  of  a  Secret 
157  > 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

Session.  But  both  came  to  an  ending,  and  the 
hour  for  departure  was  a  still  more  welcome 
change  for  both  Rosemary  and  Daisy,  who  tired 
of  it  all. 

"  And  how  did  you  like  the  memories  of  the 
Memory  Club  ? "  asked  their  hostess,  as  the  trio 
rolled  along  home  in  the  Yickard  equipage. 

"  Oh,  quite  well,"  said  Daisy,  reservedly. 

"  You  should  have  been  to  the  Secret  Session, 
though,"  said  Miss  Vickard. 
.  "  But  I  was  !  "  replied  Daisy. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  are  mistaken,"  said  her  hostess, 
adding,  "  only  the  Board  are  ever  allowed  to  be 
present  at  that." 

Daisy  decided  to  accept  amiably  the  correc- 
tion, so  long  as  the  doings  of  the  Secret  Session 
were  still  left  to  her  as  a  revealed  story,  even 
though  a  comic  one,  at  that. 

"  Come,  now,  do  let  me  propose  your  name  at 
the  next  meeting,  Miss  Wilder,"  urged  Miss 
Vickard.  "  We  need  a  Boston  member  to  bring 
us  wisdom." 

And  Daisy  declined  to  dispute  this,  too,  for 

she  quite  agreed  with  her   hostess  that   extra 

wisdom    was   needed ;    but    she   refused   to  be 

cajoled  or  patronized  into  becoming  a  member 

158 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

of  the  exclusive  Memory  Club,  and  in  response 
to  her  hostess's  query,  "  Have  you  not  some  an- 
cestor you  are  proud  of,  Miss  Wilder? "  she 
replied,  "  Oh,  ever  so  many  !  and  one  in  par- 
ticular. He  was  in  the  fire  brigade." 

This  seemed  to  put  an  end  to  all  further  im- 
portunings ;  for  it  was  evident  that  Miss  Vick- 
ard's  ideas  of  bravery  were  limited  to  that  of 
the  battle-field ;  and  so  the  conversation  upon 
the  subject  was  concluded  with  the  end  of  the 
homeward  ride. 

That  night,  at  tea,  the  Memory  Club  fur- 
nished an  inexhaustible  subject  of  conversation, 
and  Daisy  was  the  one  to  introduce  it,  with  a 
mathematical  problem  which  she  proposed  to 
Mr.  McBurnie,  saying,  "•  Mr.  McBurnie,  if  I 
confide  a  secret  (a  very  important  secret,  of 
course!)  to  seven  persons,  plus  ten  persons;  and 
each  one  of  the  seven,  plus  ten,  confides  it  to 
two  others,  as  I  do  now  to  you  and  mine  hostess, 
how  many  will  know  my  secret  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  whole  world,  of  course,"  promptly 
replied  Mr.  McBurnie. 

"  Right,  sir,"  said  Daisy.  "  But,"  said  she, 
"  supposing  that  I  never  tell  my  secret  at  all, 
what  then?" 

159     -' 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

And  to  this  Mr.  McBurnie  replied  as 
promptly,  "  Well,  you  are  either  an  uncom- 
monly wise  woman,  or  your  secret  is  not  worth 
the  name." 

"  Right  again,  sir,"  replied  Daisy.  "  And 
that  is  the  case  of  the  wonderful  Memory  Club. 
They  are  uncommon  young  ladies,  and  they  did 
not  have  any  secret  to  tell,  —  and  did  not  tell 
it !  But  then  they  excited  our  curiosity  just 
the  same ;  and  their  important  business  is  still 
theirs  to  transact ! "  said  Daisy. 

"  But  who  was  that  ancestor,  Daisy,  you  had 
in  the  fire  brigade  ?  "  asked  Rosemary. 

There  was  just  a  trace  of  justifiable  pride  in 
Daisy's  reply :  "  He  was  Major-General  Daniel 
Wilder,  chief  in  command  of  the  Ordnance  De- 
partment in  the  Civil  War." 

"  And  a  very  effectual  fire  brigade  it  was  ! " 
said  her  host. 

Fortunately,  there  were  other  and  pleasanter 
memories  of  the  holiday  week,  which  only  too 
soon  came  to  its  end ;  and  as  Daisy  replaced  her 
things  in  her  trunk,  she  did  so  with  the  regret 
that  life  could  not  be  one  long  holiday  for  her. 

She  expressed  this  thought  to  Rosemary,  say- 
ing, "  If  life  were  only  full  of  holidays,  I  should 
160 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

be  a  much  more  interesting  member  of  society 
than  I  am." 

"  Would  the  flowers  in  our  little  garden-boat 
on  the  beach  grow  in  more  perfection  if  the  sun 
shone  always  on  their  unprotected  heads,  and 
the  rains  never  fell  to  quench  their  thirst  ? " 
asked  Rosemary. 

The  application  was  a  forcible  one,  —  and 
Rosemary's  question  admitted  of  no  argument ; 
for  had  not  Daisy  often  wished  that  the  rains 
would  come  to  her  garden  family  ?  of  winds 
there  was  little  need ;  but  the  rain  had  been  a 
blessing  so  often  denied  the  little  garden  by 
the  sea  that  Rosemary's  philosophy  silenced  all 
further  rebellion  by  Daisy  at  her  life  of  un- 
happiness. 

"  And  it  will  not  be  long,"  continued  Rose- 
mary, "  before  you  and  I,  Daisy,  will  be  tending 
the  flowers  once  again.  If  I  should  go  before 
you  do,  Sam  Header  and  I  will  have  the  garden 
all  planted  for  your  coming.  What  is  your 
choice  of  flowers  ? "  asked  Rosemary. 

"  Forget-me-nots,  pansies  (white  ones,  only)," 
replied  Daisy. 

"  And  poppies,"  suggested  Rosemary. 

"  So  be  it,  then,"  said  Daisy. 
11  161     > 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

"  Poppies,  white  pansies,  and  forget-me-nots, 
—  a  national  combination  of  red,  white,  and  blue. 
'Three  cheers  for  the  red,  white,  and  blue!'' 
sang  Daisy.  "  Oh,  such  a  relief  as  it  was  to 
sing  like  that ! "  said  Daisy,  "  without  being 
told  to  report  in  the  reception-room.  And  1 
must  go  back  again,"  sighed  she. 

"  Dear  Daisy,"  said  Rosemary,  putting  her 
arm  about  her  friend's  waist,  u  I  wish  that  you 
did  not  feel  so  unhappy.  Just  try  to  do  your 
duty,  and  nothing  can  harm  you,  even  though 
the  world  seem  against  you,  and  think,  always, 
that  the  time  will  soon  come  when  the  forget- 
me-nots  and  the  pansies  will  be  ours,  and  the 
poppies  will  bring  us  rest  and  sleep." 

Rest  and  sleep !  No  other  but  Rosemary 
McBurnie  could  speak  such  words ;  but  Daisy 
had  long  ago  said  that  Rosemary  was  unlike 
any  other ;  and  did  she  not  speak  the  truth 
when,  as  a  little  child,  she  had  said  that  Rose- 
mary "  belonged  in  cloudland  where  the  angels 
live  "  ? 

Rest  and  sleep  !  the  words  conveyed  to  Daisy 

only  the  rest  from  her  tiresome  labors  and  trials 

of  school-days,  —  the  rest  that  would  come  with 

the  summer  days.     To  Rosemary,  who  shall  say 

162 


Holiday  Pleasures. 

what  prompted  the  words,  "  Rest  and  Sleep  "  ? 
For  us,  not  to  peer  into  the  unrevealed  future, 
but  wait  patiently  for  its  revelations. 

So  Daisy  returned  to  Bagley  Hall,  with  Rose- 
mary McBurnie's  comforting  words  echoing  in 
her  ears  :  "  Do  your  duty,  and  nothing  can  harm 
you,  even  though  the  world  seem  against  you ; " 
and  Rosemary  treasured  in  her  fragile  hand 
Daisy's  flower  given  her  in  parting,  which  seemed 
ever  saying  the  message  of 

THE  JAPONIC  A. 


163 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 


Japonica. 

Impatience  of  Absence. 


The  days  are  laggards  in  their  pace  ; 

The  hours  as  days  go  by. 
I  wait,  —  /  watch,  —  to  see  her  face ; 

And,  seeing  not,  I  sigh,  — 
Oh,  Time,  release  from  thy  embrace 

Her,  at  whose  court  I  bow  : 
And  when  thou  bring'st  us  face  to  face, 

Be  laggard  then  —  as  now  ! 

Grace  Le  Baron. 


164 


UNJ  UST-ACC  US  ATI  ONS 

MARJORAM      •      BLUSHES 


V. 

UNJUST  ACCUSATIONS. 

MARJORAM.      BLUSHES. 

A  ND  so  the  holiday  week  became  a  memory 
-^*-  of  the  past  to  Daisy,  with  Rosemary 
McBurnie's  sweetest  smiles  to  shed  their  added 
halo  over  the  seven  days  of  unalloyed  happiness ; 
unless  it  might  be  said  that  Daisy's  anticipated 
return  to  school  was  a  shadow  which,  like  a 
spectre,  seemed  always  intruding  itself  between 
the  present  and  the  future. 

But  Daisy  determined  that  her  resolutions 
should  never  be  fated,  as  were  those  of  so  many. 
She  had  resolved  that  Rosemary's  gentle  influ- 
ence should  be  her  guide  through  the  rest  of  her 
school  year  at  Hillside.  Neither  Miss  Abigail 
nor  Miss  Lucindy  should  deter  her  ;  and  Beulah 
Scilley  should  no  longer  bring  out  the  worst 
traits  of  her  character. 

With  such  thoughts  as  these,  Daisy  entered 
the    same    dingy    old    conveyance   which    had 
167 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

awaited  her  on  her '  first  journey  to  Hillside. 
This  time,  however,  she  was  proof  against  any 
disturbing  influence  that  might  lie  in  waiting  to 
test  her  moral  strength  ;  and  even  Miss  Abigail's 
frigid  manner  and  equally  frigid  greeting  failed 
to  affect  her  other  than  to  wish  that  there  might 
yet  come  a  sympathy  between  them,  which  could 
prove  of  mutual  help  to  them  both. 

"  I  trust  that  Miss  Wilder  has  returned  to 
school  with  good  resolutions  for  the  New  Year," 
said  Miss  Abigail,  as  she  made  way  for  her  pupil 
in  the  carriage. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Abigail,"  said  Daisy,  never  for  an 
instant  betraying  her  recognition  of  the  tinge  of 
sarcasm  which  emphasized  Miss  Bagley's  words ; 
and  the  latter  added,  — 

"  And  I  trust  also,  Miss  Wilder,  that  there 
will  be  no  repetitions  of  last  term's  escapades." 

Before  Daisy's  eyes  there  flitted  in  rapid 
succession  all  her  so-called  "  escapades,"  for 
which,  alas  !  she  could  find  no  excuses.  Then  a 
voice  like  that  of  Rosemary  McBurnie  seemed 
to  speak  through  her  conscience,  "  Do  your 
duty,  and  nothing  can  harm  you,  even  though 
the  whole  world  seem  against  you." 

As  if  looking  for  encouragement  and  help,  she 
168 


Unjust  Accusations. 

replied,  "  Miss  Abigail,  I  have  left  behind  me 
a  good  angel.  Oh,  such  a  sweet  girl !  —  my  dear 
friend  Rosemary  McBurnie ;  and  I  come  back 
to  Bagley  Hall  to  try  to  be  like  her.  Of  course 
I  never  can  be.  I  don't  expect  to  be  ;  but  if  I 
have  her  in  my  mind,  I  cannot  help  being  better 
than  I  am  now.  Please  help  me,  Miss  Abigail. 
Just  have  a  little  more  confidence  in  me,  and  I 
promise  you,  you  shall  never  regret  it.  Will 
you  please  help  me,  Miss  Abigail  ? " 

As  Daisy  asked  the  question,  she  actually  had 
the  courage  to  place  her  hand  within  that  other 
gaunt  one,  with  the  long  bony  fingers,  and 
almost  thought  she  felt  a  little  tighter  clasp 
than  the  one  she  gave,  —  a  silent  recognition  of 
her  own.  She  looked  pleadingly  into  the  angular- 
shaped  face,  in  its  frame  of  jute,  and  —  could  it 
be  that  the  stern  features  relaxed,  and  the  lips 
struggled  to  give  back  a  smile  ?  At  least,  Daisy 
liked  to  think  so ;  for  it  must  be  said,  a  look 
unknown  until  then  overspread  Miss  Abigail's 
face,  —  a  look  of  mingled  pity  and  newborn 
sympathy  ;  a  belief  in  the  young  girl  at  her  side, 
—  which  prompted  the  words,  — 

"  Miss  Wilder,  we  will  help  each  other." 
And  so  was  won  Daisy's  first  victory !     But 
169    ^ 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

another  foe  was  to  be  vanquished.  The  battle 
might  be  long,  but  victory  must  come  to  her. 

On  her  arrival  at  Bagley  Hall,  Daisy  went 
immediately  to  her  room.  With  trembling  hand 
she  knocked  at  the  door,  to  learn  if  her  room- 
mate had  taken  possession  before  her.  She  had 
studied  long  over  her  greeting  to  Beulah  Scilley, 
for  she  did  not  wish  to  betray,  in  word  or  man- 
ner, a  shadow  of  her  old-time  prejudice  and 
dislike. 

As  Beulah  opened  wide  the  door,  Daisy  put 
out  her  hand,  and  said  in  her  happiest  manner, 
"  Here  I  am,  Miss  Scilley  ! " 

The  latter  replied,  indifferently,  "  I  was  not 
expecting  you  until  to-morrow,  Miss  Wilder ; 
but,  of  course,  one  day  is  the  same  as  another." 

If  Daisy  felt  the  disappointment  conveyed  in 
the  greeting,  she  did  not  betray  it,  but  said  with 
a  smile,  "  Oh,  you  see  I  could  not  stay  away 
from  you  any  longer." 

Xo  response  to  this  little  bit  of  badinage  from 
Beulah  Scilley ;  and  Daisy  began  to  try  to  make 
herself  at  home.  True,  the  tea  hour  was  the 
same  solemn  affair  as  ever,  and  Daisy's  sharp- 
ened appetite  yearned,  not  only  for  the  deli- 
cacies of  the  McBurnies'  larder,  but,  as  well, 
170 


Unjust  Accusations. 

for   the   merry   conversation    that   "  waited   on 
appetite." 

The  welcome  which  her  companions  gave  to 
Daisy  in  the  social  hour  that  followed  was  a 
touch  of  sincerity  that  more  than  ever  appealed 
to  her  tender  yearning  heart,  and  was  the  one 
pleasant  memory  of  her  re-entrance  into  the 
"  Misses  Bagley's  Fashionable  Boarding-School." 

And  the  next  day  found  Daisy  at  her  books 
again. 

She  might  be  as  obtuse  as  the  angles  she 
dealt  with,  but  she  resolved  it  should  not  be 
from  lack  of  application  ;  and  her  struggles  with 
the  "  unknown  "  were  commendable  for  her  per- 
sistency to  become  better  acquainted  with  that 
letter  of  the  alphabet  which,  despite  all  her 
efforts,  threatened  to  remain  not  an  "  x"  but  a 
daily  cross  to  her. 

With  Beulah  Scilley  were  her  most  disheart- 
ening efforts ;  for  the  former's  persistent  re- 
fusal to  meet  her  even  halfway  caused  Daisy 
many  a  heart-ache,  and  the  consciousness  that 
to  do  one's  "  duty "  was  not  as  easy  as  some 
would  make  her  believe.  There  was  ever  that 
same  forbidding  reserve  to^  contend  with,  that 
171 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

sccretiveness,  that  Daisy  not  only  distrusted, 
but  could  not  sympathize  with.  In  short, 
Daisy's  efforts  to  come  in  closer  intimacy  with 
Beulah  Scilley  were  always  repulsed.  Beulah 
refused  to  be  cajoled,  in  any  way,  into  anything 
which  might  lead  to  familiarity.  And  the  days 
went  on,  bringing  little  encouragement  to  Daisy, 
with  Beulah's  continued  indifference. 

Occasionally,  the  air  was  full  of  girlish  pranks, 
persisted  in  by  some  of  the  pupils ;  but  Daisy 
had  resolyed  that  Welsh  rarebits  might  be 
served,  but  her  dreams  should  not  become 
nightmares  of  indigestion  and  complicity.  In- 
deed, the  Misses  Bagley  seemed  to  look  to  Daisy 
with  a  respect,  as  never  before.  At  times,  it 
almost  appeared  to  Daisy  that  the  two  sisters 
were  her  greatest  helpers. 

Only  Beulah  Scilley,  as  before  said,  remained 
for  Daisy's  conquest.  Yet  Daisy  had  resolved 
no  patronizing  manner  on  her  part  should  ac- 
complish it ;  but  conquest  she  had  determined 
upon.  But  how  ?  She  had,  she  thought,  tried 
every  honest  suggestion,  and  still  without  the 
desired  result.  She  waited  the  coming.  Was 
it  already  on  the  way  ? 

As  usual,  it  was  her  diary  that  became  her 
172 


Unjust  Accusations. 

closest,  because  her  most  confidential  friend. 
In  it,  she  wrote  after  a  night  of  vigil  and 
anxiety  :  — 

"Two  A.  M.  —  Beulah  Scilley  is  asleep  at  last! 
Poor  girl !  I  have  been  up  with  her  all  night. 
She  would  not  let  me  call  the  Misses  Bagley,  and 
so  I  have  bathed  her  head,  and  chafed  her  hands, 
and  at  last  she  is  asleep;  but  she  looks  so  pale. 
She  seemed  grateful  for  every  little  thing  I  did 
for  her. 

"  Once,  I  almost  fancied  she  asked  me  to  be  her 
friend ;  for  when  her  fever  was  running  high,  she 
rambled  in  her  delirium,  and  once,  she  grasped  my 
hand  and  said  (I  wonder  if  she  knew  what  she  was 
saying  ?),  '  You  won't  leave  me,  Daisy  ?  Say  that 
you  will  stay  by  me,  and  never  —  never  leave  me.' 
And  now  she  is  sleeping,  and  I  am  going  to  sleep, 
too.  Good-night." 

The  morning  found  Beulah  Scilley  better, 
but  very  weak,  but,  alas !  more  silent  than 
ever,  if  possible;  and  the  studies  of  the  day 
commenced. 

In  the  recess  hour  that  followed,  there  came  a 
messenger  to  Room  Number  Ten,  with  the  word 
that  "  Pupil  Number  Ten,  Miss  Wilder  of  Boston, 
will  please  report  in  the  reception-room,  after  the 
recitations  of  the  day  are  over." 
173 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

Again  and  again  Daisy  read  the  message. 
Again  and  again  she  tried  to  read  between  the 
lines,  and  finally  decided  that  the  Misses  Bagley 
wished  a  confidential  talk  with  her  upon  school 
matters ;  for  of  late  she  had  recognized  the 
happy  change  in  their  manner  to  her,  —  a 
change  which  had  its  birth  with  Daisy's  con- 
fidence with  Miss  Abigail,  when  the  two  rode 
together  from  the  station,  after  Daisy's  return 
from  her  holiday  vacation. 

So  she  decided  upon  the  meaning  of  the  note, 
while  the  convictions  of  her  conscience,  speaking 
through  Rosemary's  comforting  words,  gave  her 
additional  courage  for  the  meeting :  "  Do  your 
duty,  and  nothing  can  harm  you,  even  though 
the  world  seem  against  you." 

To  her  illness  of  the  night,  Daisy  credited 
Beulah's  silence,  more  marked  even  than  usual. 
She  became  solicitous  for  the  latter's  health,  and 
said,  "  I  am  so  glad  that  you  are  better,  Miss 
Scilley ;  for  I  am  such  a  poor  nurse,  and  you 
seemed  so  sick.  Why  do  you  not  let  me  ask 
Miss  Abigail  to  excuse  you  from  recitations ; 
you  look  pale  yet.  Shall  I  ?  "  asked  Daisy,  in 
well-meant  sympathy. 

"  No,  no !  please  do  not,  Miss  Wilder  !    Please 

174 


Unjust  Accusations. 

do  not  speak  of  my  illness  of  last  night  to  Miss 
Bagley ! "  replied  Beulah,  in  a  more  excited 
manner  than  was  common  to  her.  "  It  can  be 
of  no  use  now ;  it  is  all  over,"  she  continued, 
"  and  —  I  thank  you  for  your  care,  but  I  do  not 
feel  quite  right  anywhere ; "  and  a  look  on  her 
pale  face  seemed  to  give  truth  to  the  statement 
that  she  was  not  quite  right  anywhere,  either  in 
mind  or  body.  No,  something  was  evidently 
disturbing  the  usual  indifference  of  Miss  Beulah 
Scilley. 

Later,  Daisy  left  her  alone,  to  respond  to  the 
call  of  the  morning,  "  to  report  in  the  reception- 
room  after  the  lessons  of  the  day  are  over." 
Her  step  was  firm,  as  her  conscience  was  light, 
although  she  could  not  disguise  the  trace  of 
nervousness  that  was  noticeable,  as  she  entered 
the  little  reception-room  in  response  to  the 
"  Come  in  ! "  of  Miss  Lucindy  ;  but  it  was  only 
the  nervousness  of  uncertainty  over  the  object  of 
her  visit.  Smilingly,  she  entered  ;  totally  unpre- 
pared for  the  chill  reception  accorded  her  by  the 
Misses  Bagley,  who  sat  side  by  side  in  the 
straight-backed  chairs  of  their  ancestors. 

Daisy's  words  of  greeting  froze  upon  her  lips, 
at  the  icy  reception  given  her  by  the  two  sisters, 
175 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

and,  automaton-like,  she  followed  their  bidding 
to  "  Sit  down,  Miss  Wilder." 

The  minute's  silence  which  followed  only 
seemed  to  emphasize  the  suspense  which  Daisy 
felt.  Her  youthful  mind  travelled  back  to  her 
home,  —  to  her  mother  and  father.  "  Oh,  if  they 
were  only  here !  "  she  thought.  Then  to  Rose- 
mary, who  had  never  seemed  wholly  of  this 
world.  With  the  presence  of  these  three  by  her 
side,  she  felt  that  she  could  face  a  world  of 
accusers  ;  for,  as  was  intended  by  the  Misses 
Bagiey,  their  manner  towards  their  pupil  seemed 
to  say,  "  You  are  in  disgrace  !  " 

Daisy  was  aroused  from  her  reveries  of  home 
by  Miss  Abigail,  who,  in  that  stern  manner 
once  so  familiar,  propounded  the  question  to 
her  pupil,  "  What  were  you  doing  last  night, 
Miss  Wilder  ?  Give  an  account  of  yourself. 
You  did  not  have  many  hours  of  sleep,  did 
you  ? " 

Under  other  circumstances,  Daisy  would  have 
told  of  her  night's  vigil  over  Beulah  Scilley  ;  but 
as  she  recalled  the  excited  manner  in  which  the 
latter  had  asked  her  to  say  nothing  of  her  illness, 
she  felt  she  would  respect  her  room-mate's  wishes, 
as  far  as  she  could,  especially  as  her  conscience, 
176 


Unjust  Accusations. 

in  its  voice  of  innocence,  would  plead  for  itself 
and  for  her. 

"  No,  Miss  Abigail,"  replied  she,  in  her  honest 
words,  "  I  did  not  sleep  very  well." 

"  No,  probably  not,"  said  Miss  Abigail,  as  if 
satisfied  with  her  introductory  examination. 
"  And  perhaps  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  tell 
me  what  time  you  did  retire,"  continued  Miss 
Abigail.  "  You  know,  I  presume,  that  lights  are 
out  at  eight  thirty." 

Well,  very  well,  Daisy  remembered  the  day 
she  first  learned  that  rule  of  Bagley  Hall,  and 
her  rebellious  spirit  of  the  hour.  Where  was 
it  now  ?  She  could  not  feel  even  bitterly  to- 
wards her  two  judges,  now  sitting  in  judgment 
over  her  innocent  life ;  and  she  replied  to  the 
question,  "  Yes,  Miss  Abigail,  I  know  the 
rules  ;  and  our  lights  were  out  at  that  time, 
and  lighted  again  afterwards." 

"At  what  time  did  you  say?"  quizzingly 
asked  Miss  Abigail. 

"  I  really  do  not  know,  Miss  Abigail ;  but  it 
was  after  midnight,  for  I  did  not  get  to  sleep 
until  nearly  three  o'clock  this  morning." 

"  Three  o'clock ! "  repeated  the  sisters,  in 
horror  ;  and  Daisy,  in  her  ignorance  of  what 
12  177 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

was  the  cause  of  all  the  examination,  answered 
the  questions  put  to  her  with  the  same  brevity, 
telling  always  the  truth,  and  wishing  that  there 
were  no  restrictions  over  the  whole  truth,  yet 
hardly  knowing  how  much  might  not  be  in- 
volved in  her  answers ;  for  —  was  not  Beulah 
Scilley  another  witness  of  the  night  ?  —  and 
she  had  yet  to  feel  a  confidence  in  her  room- 
mate. 

"  Three  o'clock,  Miss  Wilder,  is  rather  a  late 
hour  to  prepare  for  a  rising  bell  at  six  thirty/' 
said  Miss  Lucindy,  in  a  very  sarcastic  way. 
"  You  must  be  very  tired,  from  such  a  shoit 
nap." 

"  I  am,  Miss  Lucindy,"  quietly  replied  Daisy ; 
"  very  tired  ;  but  Miss  Scilley  was  — 

Daisy  was  on  the  point  of  saying  that  Miss 
Beulah  Scilley  had  had  no  more  sleep  than  she, 
when  Miss  Lucindy  interrupted,  saying,  "  Miss 
Scilley  has  already  told  us  all." 

To  Daisy,  the  one  thought  intruded  itself, 
"  What  has  Miss  Scilley  told  ?  "  She  felt,  how- 
ever, the  barrier  was  in  a  measure  taken  away, 
and  with  her  freedom  came  her  words,  "  Very 
well,  Miss  Lucindy,  if  Miss  Scilley  has  told  you 
of  our  night,  I  cannot  tell  you  any  more." 
178 


Unjust  Accusations. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Scilley  has  told  us  all,  and  that 
she  left  you  writing  when  she  went  to  sleep," 
said  Miss  Lucindy. 

And  was  that  the  way  that  Beulah  Scilley 
had  shown  her  gratitude  towards  Daisy,  for  the 
latter's  careful  nursing  !  "  Surely,"  thought 
Daisy,  "  she  might  have  helped  in  my  defence, 
for  of  course  if  she  has  told  all  about  the  night 
she  has  told  of  her  sickness.  Then  why  did  she 
ask  me  to  say  nothing  about  it  ?  "  Daisy  could 
not  understand,  nor  could  she  help  wishing  that 
Beulah  Scilley  might  have  spared  her  all  this 
humiliation ;  for  humiliation  it  was,  since  it  was 
not  in  Daisy's  power  fully  to  explain  herself. 
With  the  thought  that  Beulah  had  told  all,  or 
some  of  the  all,  Daisy  answered  boldly.  "Yes, 
Miss  Scilley  is  right.  She  did  leave  me  writing, 
for  I  watched  her  off  to  sleep." 

"  Watched  over  Miss  Scilley,  did  you  say  ? " 
repeated  Miss  Lucindy,  with  a  sneer,  and  Miss 
Abigail  interrupted  to  ask,  "  And  who  watched 
over  you,  Miss  Wilder  ? " 

"  The  same  One  who  watched  over  you," 
replied  Daisy,  reverently,  as  with  a  trembling 
voice  she  added,  "  and  He  believes  me." 

"  Come  !  come  !  "  said  Miss  Abigail,  impatient 
179 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

to  close  the  interview,  "  why  do  you  not  give 
an  account  of  your  night's  work,  and  confess  ?  " 

Confess  !  The  word  carried  its  accusation  to 
Daisy,  and  she  sat  as  if  stunned  for  the  moment. 
Confess !  Should  she  attempt  her  defence  by 
telling  of  her  night's  watching  over  Beulah 
Scilley  ?  And  why  not  ?  for,  if  Beulah  had, 
as  the  Misses  Bagley  said,  told  all,  she  must 
at  least  have  had  to  tell  something  of  her  ill- 
ness. So  Daisy  commenced  an  explanation, 
prefacing  her  words  with,  "  Miss  Abigail,  I  have 
very  little  to  confess." 

"  Very  little,  indeed  ! "  interrupted  the  sisters. 
"  These  night  escapades  may  seem  very  little  to 
you,  Miss  Wilder,  but  we  had  commenced  to 
think  better  things  of  you." 

A  little  voice  whispered  in  Daisy's  ear,  "  Do 
your  duty,  and  nothing  can  harm  you,  even 
though  the  world  seem  against  you." 

She  repeated  the  words,  "  Escapades  !  esca- 
pades !  "  Then  asked,  "  What  escapades,  Miss 
Abigail  ?  " 

But  Miss  Abigail  persistently  refused  to  be 
influenced,  even  in  the  least,  by  Daisy's  inno- 
cent manner.  Had  her  mind  been  poisoned  by 
another  ?  Had  her  heart's  best  thoughts  been 
180 


Unjust  Accusations. 

turned  aside  into  the  old  channel  of  distrust? 
She  said  in  a  most  sarcastic  manner,  "  A  very 
innocent  question  to  ask,  Miss  Wilder.  Per- 
haps the  cook  can  give  you  a  better  answer 
than  we." 

The  plot  seemed  to  grow  more  intricate  than 
ever  in  Daisy's  disturbed  thoughts !  Had  she 
never  once  engaged  in  those  night  foragings 
in  the  cook's  pantry,  she  would  have  been  more 
in  the  dark  than  ever.  Commanding  all  her 
resolution,  she  arose  from  her  chair,  as  if  to 
leave  the  room,  but  was  hardly  able  to  control 
the  look  of  scorn  that  her  lips  betrayed. 

Condemn  her  you  who  will !  but  find  some 
charity  in  your  heart  for  her,  who,  having 
faced  her  accusers  in  humility  and  innocence, 
could  no  longer  control  her  indignation  at  being 
made  to  suffer  the  indignity  of  distrust  and 
accusation. 

Turning  to  the  Misses  Bagley,  she  said,  as 
her  little,  lithe  frame  shook  with  emotion,  but 
not  passion,  "  Miss  Abigail  and  Miss  Lucindy, 
you  have  no  right  to  question  me  in  this  way.  I 
have  told  you  I  am  innocent  of  any  complicity 
or  duplicity,  and  you  should  respect  my  words, 
as  I  have  yours." 

181 


'Tvvixt  You  and  Me. 

She  was  about  to  leave  with  these  words, 
when  Miss  Lucindy  called  her  back,  saying, 
"Miss  Wilder,  your  words  would  be  more  re- 
spected by  us,  were  there  not  contradictory 
proofs  of  their  truth.  "Will  you  examine  this, 
Miss  Wilder?  "and  Miss  Lucindy  passed  into 
Daisy's  outstretched  hands — the  latter' s  lace- 
trimmed  handkerchief!  and,  as  she  looked  at  its 
pretty  design,  she  read  in  one  corner  her  own 
initials,  "  D.  W." 

"  Unmistakable  proof,  Miss  Wilder,  is  it 
not  ? "  said  Miss  Lucindy,  as  she  noted  with 
grim  satisfaction  Daisy's  manifest  astonishment. 
"  Unmistakable  proof,  Miss  Wilder,  is  it  not  ?  " 
she  repeated.  "  Found  by  the  cook  in  her  pan- 
try this  morning ;  left,  perhaps,  by  accident ; 
perhaps  as  a  bribe  for  the  silence  of  the  cook, 
by  the  trespasser.  Are  you  satisfied  who  that 
trespasser  was  ?  " 

Daisy's  quick  brain  offered  some  explanation, 
but  it  was  an  explanation  she  was  not  justified, 
as  yet,  in  giving  to  her  accusers.  She  could 
wait.  She  replied,  "  Yes,  Miss  Lucindy,  this  is 
mine."  Xo  more. 

There  she  stood,  convicted,  for  the  moment,  by 
circumstantial  proof,  and  how  to  work  out  her 
182 


Unjust  Accusations. 

salvation  seemed  a  problem.  Apparently,  the 
"  world  was  against  her  now,"  if  ever,  and  — 
had  she  not  done  her  duty  ?  She  almost  falt- 
ered in  her  belief  of  justice ;  but  again  that 
voice,  that  little  voice,  and  again  she  took 
courage. 

"  Then  you  still  refuse  to  confess,  Miss 
Wilder?"  said  Miss  Lucindy,  as  if  deter- 
mined to  receive  an  answer  favorable  to  con- 
viction. 

"  I  refuse  positively  to  confess  to  that  of 
which  I  know  nothing,"  replied  Daisy,  in  a 
strong  voice.  "  May  I  be  excused  now,  please  ? " 
she  asked. 

"  In  a  few  moments,  Miss  Wilder,  after  we 
have  told  you  of  our  great  disappointment  in 
you,"  said  Miss  Abigail.  "  We  had  hoped  for 
better  things  from  you.  Indeed,  both  my  sister 
and  myself  had  come  to  look  upon  you  with 
pride  and  growing  affection  — 

"  Affection !  Could  affection  so  soon  give 
way  to  distrust  ? "  thought  Daisy  ;  but  her  heart 
softened  to  her  accusers,  for  she  thought  that 
she  saw  Miss  Abigail  thrust  quickly  her  hand- 
kerchief into  her  pocket,  while  the  sun,  striking 
on  her  face,  left  Daisy  in  doubt  whether  or  no 
183 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

a  teardrop  glistened  upon  the  wrinkled  face  of 
her  preceptress. 

Daisy  chose  to  give  Miss  Abigail  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt,  even  though  the  latter's  words 
were  no  proof  of  the  affection  she  had  once 
maintained  for  her  pupil.  Miss  Abigail  said,  in 
the  same  stern  voice,  without  a  trace  of  emo- 
tion, "  Your  resignation  will  be  accepted,  Miss 
Wilder,  at  any  time  during  the  day  you  may 
choose  to  tender  it ;  but  we  feel  it  our  duty  to 
make  of  you  a  public  example." 

To  Daisy  the  first  part  of  the  verdict  seemed 
a  little  concession.  She  was  not  to  be  turned 
away  ;  but  she  was  to  ask  to  be  turned  away. 
The  difference  was  only  a  mild  distinction,  to 
be  sure,  but  she  liked  to  think  that  perhaps  the 
Misses  Bagley's  so-called  affection  had  "  tem- 
pered the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb."  But  —  a 
public  example  !  A  public  example !  Surely  hu- 
miliation upon  humiliation  seemed  to  threaten 
Daisy's  innocence ;  and  she  had  hard  work  to 
govern  her  resolutions,  even  though  the  still 
small  voice  in  her  ear  seemed  ever  calling,  "  Do 
your  duty,  and  nothing  can  harm  you,  even 
though  the  world  seem  against  you." 

She  hurried  from  the  room.  Her  eyes  were 
184 


Unjust  Accusations. 

blinded  in  their  veil  of  tears,  and  not  even  the 
loving  embraces  of  her  companions,  who  stood 
waiting  along  the  corridors  and  up  the  stairs,  in 
curious  interest  as  to  the  issue  of  the  hour, 
could  bring  peace  to  her  troubled  mind. 

"  It  was  good  to  be  alone,"  she  felt ;  alone 
with  her  thoughts,  even  though  those  thoughts 
brought  despair,  but  not  disgrace.  She  thought 
of  her  home,  where  her  loving  parents  waited 
for  her  with  open  arms.  Then,  again,  she  saw 
in  fancy  Rosemary  McBurnie's  sweet  face,  and 
heard  her  saying  those  words  of  comfort,  "  Do 
your  duty,  and  nothing  can  harm  you,  even 
though  the  world  seem  against  you." 

Had  she  not  tried  to  steel  herself  to  the  world's 
unkindness  and  suspicion  ?  Must  she  always  be 
misunderstood,  except  by  the  few  ?  Was  not  the 
world  against  her  to-day  ?  Thus  she  reasoned 
with  her  troubled  heart.  She  tossed  and  tossed 
upon  her  little  bed,  and  at  last  sobbed  herself  to 
sleep,  tired  out,  and  weary  from  crying. 

How  long  she  lay  sleeping  she  did  not  know, 
but  the  moon  was  playing  "  peep  boo  "  with  the 
clouds,  as  if  threatening  rain,  when  she  awoke. 
But  hark !  Hark !  was  it  the  coming  storm 
outside,  and  the  sighing  of  the  tall  pine-trees 
185 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

bending  to  the  winds,  or  was  it  a  human  sigh  ? 
—  a  sob  ? 

Daisy  sat  up  in  her  bed,  and  listened.  Again 
it  came,  and  still  again,  until  in  her  nervousness 
she  could  bear  it  no  longer.  She  called  in  a 
whisper,  "  Miss  Scilley  !  Beulah  Scilley  !  " 

No  answer  to  her  call !  Putting  her  hand  over 
the  little  bed  at  her  side,  she  ventured  to  take 
that  of  her  room-mate,  saying  in  another  hoarse 
whisper,  "  Miss  Scilley,  is  that  you  crying  ? " 
Again  no  answer.  Still  Daisy  felt  it  was  un- 
mistakably Beulah  Scilley  who  was  crying,  so, 
patting  the  latter  gently,  she  tried  to  offer  the 
comfort  that  her  own  bruised  heart  called  for. 
"  Don't  cry,  Miss  Scilley,"  she  said,  with  great 
tenderness  of  voice.  "  Don't  cry.  Is  it  because 
I  am  going  away  you  are  crying  ? "  she  asked. 

But  no  answer  came  in  response  to  her  ques- 
tion, and  Daisy  continued  her  conversation  with 
her  silent  listener,  reasoning  as  her  own  heart 
dictated.  "  Only  think,"  she  said,  "  how  much 
worse  it  might  be  !  I  might  be  guilty  of  what 
they  accuse  me,  and  deserve  all  this." 

Still  no  answer  from  the  bed  at  her  side, 
although  Daisy  fancied  she  heard  a  smothered 
sob.  "  Yes,"  continued  she,  "  it  is  better  that  I 
186 


Unjust  Accusations. 

should  suffer  for  another,  rather  than  that  an- 
other should  suffer  for  me." 

Still  no  answer.  The  darkness  of  the  room 
was  lighted  only  by  the  fitful  moon,  and  Daisy 
could  not  see  if  her  companion  had,  —  like  her- 
self once  before,  —  sobbed  herself  to  sleep. 

Daisy  arose,  and,  by  the  light  of  the  little 
candle  on  her  toilette  table,  continued  her  con- 
versation with  that  other,  her  confidential  friend, 
whose  pages  were  always  open  to  the  secrets  of 
her  heart.  By  the  light  of  the  dimly  burning 
candle  she  wrote  in  her  diary  :  — 

"  Why  is  it,  I  wonder,  that  in  the  midst  of  my 
sorrow  I  feel  so  light-hearted  ?  Something  tells 
me  that  after  this  storm  passes  over,  the  sun  will 
shine  for  me,  —  yes,  for  me. 

"  And  yet  why  do  I  think  so  ?  when  to-morrow, 
you  and  I  together,  little  silent  friend,  —  you  and 
I,  little  book,  —  will  start  for  home  —  and  friends. 

"Friends!  there,  that  reminds  me  of  my  good 
friend  Eosemary  McBurnie,  and  my  promise  to 
send  her  always  a  messenger  to  tell  if  I  am  happy 
or  miserable.  Why,  I  am  neither  happy  nor  mis- 
erable, although  —  I  am  in  disgrace." 

So,  stealthily  creeping  to  the  table,  she  took 
from  between  the  leaves  of  the  book  where  she 
187 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

had  pressed  it,  on  that  happy  summer  day,  and 
folded,  in  an  envelope  addressed  to  her  dear 
friend  Rosemary,  the  dried  spray  and  the  dead 
blossom  of  the 


188 


Unjust  Accusations. 


Marjoram. 
Blushes. 


Upon  my  knee  she  sits  enthroned,  — 
My  little  Margaret. 
Ah,  well-a-day,  my  little  Queen  ! 

My  merry  Margaret. 
Her  voice  is  blissful  melody  : 
Her  lips  like  budding  rose  ; 
And  on  her  cheeks,  sweet  Innocence,  — 
The  only  blush  she  knows. 
Ah,  well-a-day ! 

My  Margaret. 

O  Time,  deal  gently  with  my  love,  — 
My  little  Margaret. ' 
Alack-a-day  !  if  sorrow  change 

My  merry  Margaret. 
If  Sin  bring  discord  to  her  song, 

Or  blush  of  Shame  should  spread 
Its  hated  breath  upon  her  cheek, 
I  would  that  she  were  dead  ! 
Alack-a-day ! 

My  Margaret. 

To  Him  I  do  commend  thee  ! 
His  Love  will  sure  defend  thee ; 
His  child  He  will  confess  thee. 
And  so  I  pray,  "  God  bless  thee  !  " 
My  merry  little  Margaret. 

Grace  Le  Baron. 


189 


VI. 

EXONERATED. 

LILY   OP   THE   VALLEY.      RETURN    OF   HAPPINESS. 

WHEN  Daisy  awoke  the  next  morning  from 
her  disturbed  slumbers  of  the  night,  a 
cold  rain,  like  sleet,  was  beating  unmercifully 
against  the  windows.  Long  icicles  hung  from 
the  trees  outside,  and  everything  seemed  in  keep- 
ing with  Daisy's  loneliness  of  heart. 

Beulah  Scilley  had  risen  before  her,  and 
Daisy  tried  in  every  way  to  catch  a  stealthy 
look  at  the  former's  face,  to  see  if  she  could 
discover  any  tell-tale  trace  of  the  night's  tears. 
She  fancied,  as  she  saw  Beulah  reflected  in  the 
mirror,  that  the  latter's  eyes  looked  swollen 
from  weeping,  then  satisfied  herself,  by  another 
stolen  glance,  that  it  was  only  fancy,  and  re- 
turned to  her  first  thought  of  the  night,  —  that 
the  sighing  she  had  heard  was  but  the  soughing 
of  the  wind,  and  that  she  had  held  her  conversa- 
tion with  an  imaginary  listener,  and  that  her 
words  of  comfort  had  been  misplaced. 
13  193 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

"  How  hard  it  did  rain  last  night !  "  she  said 
to  her  room-mate.  "  Did  you  hear  the  trees 
blowing  ?  "  she  asked. 

u  Yes,"  replied  Bculah  Scilley.  "  It  looked 
like  a  storm  when  I  came  to  bed,  but  you  were 
asleep  then." 

"  But  I  woke  up  later,  and  thought  that  I 
heard  some  one  crying,"  said  Daisy.  "  It  must 
have  been  either  the  pines,  or  that  old  willow- 
tree  down  by  the  pond,  swaying  and  bending 
to  the  wind ;  for,  oh,  how  it  blew !  I  thought 
at  first  it  was  you  crying ;  but  you  never  cry, 
do  you,  Miss  Scilley  ? "  asked  Daisy,  and  added, 
"  at  least,  I  never  saw  you  crying."  Which  was 
quite  true.  For  if  it  had  been  Beulah  Scilley 
who  had  so  disturbed  Daisy's  night,  the  dark- 
ness had  so  hid  her  that  the  latter  did  not,  in 
very  truth,  see  her. 

"  I  never  saw  you  cry,"  repeated  Daisy,  as  if 
wishing  to  be  satisfied  about  the  night's  dis- 
turbance. 

"  Xo,"  replied  Beulah  Scilley  ;  "  I  do  not  cry 
very  often,  and  when  I  do,  I  do  not  intend  to  cry 
in  public.  Neither  do  I  cry  for  trifles.  Tears 
do  not  always  indicate  the  worst  suffering,  for 
sometimes  those  who  never  cry  suffer  the  most." 
194 


Exonerated. 

Daisy  Wilder,  as  she  studied  closely  the  face 
of  her  room-mate,  when  she  said  these  words, 
could  only  feel  that  the  latter  spoke  from  per- 
sonal experience. 

"  Well,  I  like  a  real  good  cry  myself,  when 
anything  troubles  me,"  said  Daisy.  "  Some- 
how tears  are  a  great  relief.  Now,  last  night, 
I  cried  myself  to  sleep,  and  I  feel  better  this 
morning  for  it ;  but  I  sha'n't  shed  another  tear 
—  for  myself,"  she  added,  as  if  with  a  hidden 
meaning  in  her  determination.  "  Not  for  a 
while,  anyway,  —  not  while  I  am  here,  at  least ; 
but  then,  that  will  not  be  long,  for  you  know,  I 
suppose,  that  I  am  going  away  in  disgrace  to- 
morrow, Miss  Scilley." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  latter  ;  "  Miss  Abigail  told 
me  that  you  were  to  leave  us  soon.  But  I 
shall  not  stay  long  after  you,  Miss  Wilder; 
and  —  I  wish  that  I  had  never  come  !  "  Saying 
this,  Beulah  Scilley  gave  the  open  drawer  before 
her  a  sudden  push,  that  made  the  little  old- 
fashioned  mirror  above  it  tremble. 

"  Oh,  you    will    feel   very    differently,    Miss 
Scilley,  when  I  am  gone.     I  never  was  the  right 
one  for  your  room-mate.     We  are  so  different 
in  every  way,"  said  Daisy. 
195 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

Inwardly,  be  it  said,  Daisy  Wilder  could  not 
help  feeling  a  bit  of  satisfaction,  at  the  marked 
difference  between  herself  and  her  room-mate ; 
but  the  latter' s  quick  reply  astonished  Daisy  : 
"  No,  Miss  Wilder,  I  do  not  think  I  was  ever 
fitted  to  come  in  close  companionship  with  any 
one.  I  was  always  very  peculiar." 

In  the  few  weeks  at  the  "  Misses  Bagley's 
Fashionable  Boarding-School,"  Daisy  had  never 
before  heard  her  room-mate  talk  so  plainly  to 
any  one.  She  became  amazed  at  even  this  little 
confidence  displayed  by  her  companion,  and  was 
at  a  loss  to  explain  the  sudden  change  in  the 
latter.  "  Perhaps  she,  too,  has  been  misunder- 
stood through  life,"  thought  the  sympathetic 
Daisy ;  "  and  I  am  as  guilty  as  any  one,  for, 
I  must  confess,  Beulah  Scilley  has  always  been 
a  queer  riddle  to  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Daisy,  "  we  are  all  peculiar 
in  our  way,  I  suppose.  Now,  when  I  was  a 
little  girl,  mother  was  always  afraid  to  let 
me  go  visiting  much  alone,  because  she  said  I 
told  everything  I  knew  ;  and  you,  Miss  Scilley, 
are  just  the  opposite,  so  the  average  is  right. 
We  were  both  born  that  way,  and  cannot  help 
ourselves." 

196 


Exonerated. 

"  No,"  interrupted  Beulah  Scilley  ;  "  I  was 
not  born  this  way  !  I  was  born  with  a  frank, 
open  nature  like  yours.  But  after  iny  mother 
died  (I  never  knew  anything  about  my  father, 
and  know  less  now),  my  aunt  took  me  to  bring 
up,  and  my  cousins  were  always  making  trouble 
for  me,  repeating  things  which  I  never  said, 
and  for  which  I  was  often  wrongfully  punished  ; 
until  I  determined  I  would  not  say  anything,  — 
in  other  words,  I  would  just  live  to  myself.  So 
it  was,  that  my  whole  nature  became  changed, 
and  now  it  is  too  late  —  too  late!"  and  the 
despair  of  Beulah's  words  was  manifest  in  her 
face. 

To  Daisy,  the  change  in  Beulah  Scilley,  now 
so  apparent,  was  painful  rather  than  pleasing.  It 
was  like  a  crushing  blow  that  fells  the  tall  pine- 
tree  of  the  forest,  while  the  little  saplings,  in 
their  sheltered  homes,  withstand  the  elements. 
To  her,  Beulah  Scilley,  with  all  her  mysterious 
traits,  was  as  the  pine-tree  in  its  pride  ;  and  now, 
some  storm,  some  unknown  conflict  of  the  heart, 
seemed  waging  and  breaking  the  proud  spirit, 
that  until  now  had  defied  everything. 

Daisy's  pity  was  awakened ;  forgetting  all  dif- 
ferences, forgetting  all  blinding  suspicions,  her 
197 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

tender  heart  was  moved  to  pity,  and  going  to 
Beulah  Scilley's  side,  she  said,  "  1  am  sorry,  Miss 
Scilley,  that  you  have  not  told  me  all  this  before, 
for  I  might  have  helped  you.  "We  might  have 
helped  each  other  —  and  enjoyed  each  other  so 
much  —  so  much  !  hut  I  shall  go  away  with  the 
feeling  that  I  know  you  hetter  now,  for  even  this 
little  bit  of  confidence  that  you  have  given  me," 
said  Daisy. 

'•  Oh,  but  you  don't  know  me  !  you  don't  know 
me  !  "  persistently  cried  Beulah  Scilley,  almost 
in  a  frenzy  of  excitement. 

"  "Well,"  said  Daisy  Wilder,  trying  to  soothe  the 
hysterical  girl,  u  at  least,  I  know  enough,  Beulah, 
to  understand  you  better  ;  "  and  Daisy  trembled 
at  her  familiarity,  for  thus  calling  Miss  Scilley, 
for  the  first  time,  by  her  Christian  name  ;  but 
the  latter  did  not  resent  it,  and  Daisy  even 
began  to  think  that  her  conquest  was  on  its 
way  to  ultimate  victory. 

"  But,"  said  Beulah  Scilley,  "  you  do  not  un- 
derstand me,  and  never  will,  until  — " 

"  Until  you  open  your  heart  wide  to  me,"  in- 
terrupted Daisy. 

"  But  I  cannot !  oh,  I  cannot !  "  cried  Beulah, 
"for  you  will  hate  me  when  you  see  me  as  I 
198 


Exonerated. 

am  !  "  and  the  tone  of  her  voice  implied  how 
hard  was  the  battle,  how  hard  the  conflict  in  the 
girl's  heart. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Daisy.  "  I  shall  not  hate  you, 
I  promise  you.  Never,  Beulah."  And  Beulah, 
as  she  looked  inquiringly  into  Daisy's  face, 
as  if  for  confirmation  of  the  latter's  words, 
repeated  interrogatively,  "  Never  ? "  with  an 
expressed  doubt  as  to  the  possibility  of  being 
loved  by  any  one,  and,  above  all,  by  Daisy 
Wilder. 

During  the  conversation,  not  a  tear  had  been 
shed  by  Beulah,  but  the  wearied  look  in  her  eyes 
indicated  the  storm-tossed  soul  within,  and  was 
convincing  proof  of  her  words,  —  "  sometimes 
those  who  never  cry  suffer  the  most." 

Daisy  regretted  the  intrusion  of  the  breakfast- 
bell,  just  at  the  important  moment  when  she 
began  to  feel  that  Beulah  Scilley  was  leading  up 
to  some  greater  confidence,  to  test  her  professed 
faith  and  love.  But  death  alone  was  the  one  only 
condition  to  break  through  the  immutable  laws 
of  Bagley  Hall !  and  the  call  to  breakfast  was 
not  one  to  be  ignored, — this  solemn  call  to  a 
still  more  solemn  hour  ;  for  all  the  meals  had  a 
solemnity  and  a  silence.  And  the  two  girls 
199 


'Tvvixt  You  and  Me. 

descended  to  the  dining-room,  —  the  one  with 
the  sweetness  of  innocence  about  her,  the  other 
with  an  indescribable  something,  known  only  to 
herself,  to  distract  her  peace  of  mind  and  destroy 
her  appetite. 

With  a  strong,  firm  step,  Daisy  passed  Miss 
Abigail,  who,  as  usual,  stood  monitor  at  the 
dining-room  door.  Daisy  felt  her  cheeks  red- 
den as  she  bade  Miss  Abigail  and  the  rest 
"  Good-morning." 

Beulah  Scilley,  taking  advantage  of  the  situa- 
tion, stole  quietly  away  to  her  corner  of  the 
table,  without  even  the  customary  nod  of  recog- 
nition to  any  one.  It  was  Daisy  Wilder  who 
became  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  her  compan- 
ions desiring  to  show  by  kindlier  smiles  than 
ever  before,  even,  their  sympathy  and  love  for 
their  schoolmate,  since  the  news  of  Daisy's  en- 
forced leave  had  now  reached  their  knowledge. 

The  Misses  Bagley  looked  in  vain  for  any 
signs  of  contrition  from  Daisy  Wilder ;  for  none 
were  visible  upon  the  latter's  honest  face. 

So  is  it  that  innocence  brings  with  it  a  strength 

that  guilt  fails  to  command,  —  the  strength  that 

comes  with  a  clear  conscience.     And  the  little 

voice  still  whispered  its  helpful  message,  "Do 

200 


Exonerated. 

your   duty,  and   nothing  can   harm   you,  even 
though  the  world  seem  against  you." 

Somehow,  the  breakfast  seemed  interminably 
long  to  Daisy,  and  she  could  not  help  but  note 
the  improvement  in  the  coffee ;  for  the  whole 
family  were  served,  from  the  one  silver  urn,  to 
coffee,  not  chiccory,  as  heretofore. 

The  breakfast  over,  Daisy  went  to  her  room 
to  prepare  for  the  going  away  of  to-morrow.  She 
was  now  no  longer  a  pupil  of  the  "  Misses  Bag- 
ley's  Fashionable  Boarding-School."  She  had 
only  one  command  left  to  heed,  and  that  was  to 
"  Come  to  Recitation  Room  A  "  at  a  later  hour. 
She  craved  another  conversation  with  Beulah 
Scilley,  but  knew  how  impossible  it  would  be, 
since  every  hour  was  one  of  recitation  until  she 
should  meet  her  in  the  room  below  ;  for  —  was 
she  not  to  submit  to  a  greater  humiliation  ? 
What,  she  knew  not ! 

Daisy  unlocked  her  trunk,  and  stood  looking 
into  it,  as  if  looking  into  Pandora's  magic  box, 
as  if  trying  to  make  it  responsible  for  all  the 
"  Troubles  "  which  had  come  to  her  with  that 
first  opening  of  it,  when  she  had  hidden  away 
the  pretty  pink  silk  as  being  unsuitable  to  the 
hour  and  place ;  but  while  she  stood  in  reverie, 
201 


T\vixt  You  and  Me. 

Hope  came  to  her,  even  as  to  Pandora  in  her 
tribulation  and  disturbed  peace  of  mind.  Some 
good  angel  seemed  ever  whispering  of  that  which 
would  reinstate  her  ;  and  that  voice  spoke  to 
her,  as  to  Pandora  and  Epimetheus  in  their 
troubles,  and  bade  her  hope.  To  her,  the  voice 
spoke  those  same  words  of  comfort,  "  Do  your 
dutv,  and  nothing  can  harm  vou.  even  though  the 

»     7  O  «  O 

world  seem  against  you." 

As  Daisy  laid  trinket  after  trinket  and  box 
after  box  in  the  depths  of  her  trunk,  a  new 
strength  came  to  her,  and  she  worked  diligently, 
her  thoughts  ever  turning,  now,  to  her  home, 
anon,  to  Rosemary  McBurnie  ;  while  the  fear  of 
wounding  the  hearts  of  those  she  loved  was  a 
greater  grief  than  any  perplexity  of  the  present 
hour  to  her.  But  was  she  not  innocent  ?  And 
they  would  believe  her !  With  that  knowledge 
came  strength  to  bear,  strength  to  suffer. 

A  messenger  at  the  door  reminded  Daisy  that 
the  hour  had  come  for  her  appearance  in  "  Reci- 
tation Room  A."  For  what  ?  she  dared  not 
question  even  of  her  own  innocent  heart.  True, 
that  threat  of  a  "  public  example  "  had  not  as 
yet  been  carried  out,  and  she  felt  that  the  coming 
hour  was  to  be  the  last  chapter  in  her  story  of 
202 


Exonerated. 

humiliation.  She  bestowed  unusual  care  upon 
her  hair,  and  with  an  uncommonly  bright  ribbon 
at  her  throat  she  obeyed  the  summons. 

She  entered  the  room,  and  took  in  at  a  glance 
the  sombre  dresses  of  her  schoolmates,  although 
a  little  bunch  of  flowers  worn  by  each  girl  seemed 
to  scatter  its  fragrance,  and  speak  to  her  its 
message  of  love  and  confidence.  She  was,  as 
ever,  strong  in  her  conviction  of  right ;  strong, 
as  ever,  in  the  companionship  of  her  innocence. 
What  had  she  to  fear?  The  world  might,  as 
now,  seem  against  her  ;  hers  to  be  brave  !  And 
she  faced  her  accusers,  the  Misses  Bagley,  with 
a  firmness  and  innocence  of  look  and  manner, 
that  seemed,  she  thought,  for  the  moment  to 
disarm  them  both. 

Miss  Lucindy  picked  vigorously  at  her  rusty 
mitts,  and  Miss  Abigail  twisted  nervously  her 
jute  curls.  Calmly,  yet  not  in  defiance,  Daisy 
Wilder  stood  to  hear  her  accusers.  It  was  Miss 
Abigail  who  first  addressed  the  pupils,  drawing 
a  significant  lesson  from  this  hour  of  Daisy's 
undeserved  humiliation.  She  told  of  the  uses  of 
discipline,  of  the  punishment  of  transgressors  of 
law  and  order ;  more  especially,  of  that  punish- 
ment that  must  be  inflicted  upon  those  who 
203 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

defied  the  discipline  and  laws  of  Bagley  Hall, — 
a  discipline  and  laws  that  must  be  maintained 
for  the  success  and  good  reputation  of  the 
school. 

Then  Miss  Lucindy  gave  her  share  of  admoni- 
tion, addressing  her  words  more  particularly  to 
Daisy  Wilder  herself,  who  stood  by,  not  cast 
down,  either  in  look  or  heart.  She  could  have 
wished  it  otherwise ;  that  those  whom  she  loved, 
and  loved  her  so  well,  might  have  been  spared 
all  this  anxiety  for  her,  their  schoolmate.  This 
seemed  to  be  Daisy's  regret  of  the  hour  as  she 
listened. 

"  And  now,  Miss  Wilder,"  said  Miss  Lucindy, 
in  closing  her  remarks,  "  what  have  you  to  say 
in  your  own  defence  ?  It  is  not  yet  too  late." 

Miss  Lucindy  waited  for  Daisy's  answer,  which 
the  latter  gave  promptly,  and  in  a  firm  voice, 
"  Miss  Lucindy,  I  have  nothing  to  say  that 
would  please  either  you  or  Miss  Abigail." 

"  You  hear,  young  ladies,"  said  Miss  Lucindy, 
turning  to  the  pupils,  "  you  hear  that  Miss 
Wilder  stands  convicted  by  her  own  lips  ;  "  and 
as  Miss  Lucindy  said  the  words,  a  look  of  satis- 
faction overspread  her  wrinkled  face,  which,  it 
must  be  said,  had  until  now  worn  just  a  shadow, 
204 


Exonerated. 

expressing  the  doubt  in  her  mind  of  Daisy 
Wilder's  guilt. 

Indeed,  if  the  truth  were  told,  both  Miss 
Abigail  and  Miss  Lucindy  had  been  hoping  that 
some  other  tribunal  than  the  one  over  which 
they  presided  would  settle  the  question  of  Daisy 
Wilder's  innocence,  and  the  guilt  of  the  unknown 
transgressor  of  the  rules  of  Bagley  Hall. 

"  Miss  Wilder  has  confessed,  you  see,"  con- 
tinued Miss  Lucindy. 

"  I  have  confessed  to  nothing,  Miss  Lucindy  ! " 
interrupted  Daisy,  in  a  determined,  though  still 
respectful  manner. 

"  Then  will  you  be  kind  enough,  Miss  Wilder, 
to  explain  your  words  :  that  you  can  say  noth- 
ing that  we,  my  sister  and  myself,  would  be 
pleased  to  hear,"  said  Miss  Lucindy. 

"  I  meant  just  this,  Miss  Lucindy,"  said  Daisy  : 
"  that  you  think  me  guilty  of  everything  of 
which  you  accuse  me,  and  I  could  never  make 
you  believe  anything  else." 

"  And  do  you  still  mean  to  say,  Miss  Wilder," 
said  Miss  Lucindy,  "  that  you  are  not  the 
offender ? " 

"  I  do,  Miss  Lucindy,"  replied  Daisy. 

"  Can  you  tell  us,  then,  who  was  the  offender, 
205 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

Miss  Wilder  ?  Or  have  you  any  suspicions  of  an- 
other to  help  establish  your  own  innocence  ? " 
inquired  Miss  Lucindy ;  and  Daisy  Wilder 
replied,  — 

"  Xo,  Miss  Lucindy,  1  do  not  know  who  was 
the  offender  ;  and  if  I  have  any  suspicions,  they 
could  be  nothing  but  suspicions,  and  I  have  no 
right  to  clear  my  own  name  from  disgrace  by 
bringing  shame  upon  another's." 

The  quiet  way  in  which  Daisy  said  these 
words  took  from  them  the  charge  of  open  rebuke 
to  her  elders ;  but  it  set  them  to  thinking,  as 
never  before,  and  made  them  more  charitably 
disposed  towards  the  helpless  young  girl  stand- 
ing before  them.  Could  it  have  been  possible  to 
have  revoked  Daisy  Wilder's  sentence  of  expul- 
sion, without  humiliation  on  their  part,  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  the  Misses  Bagley  would  have 
done  so. 

Again,  Miss  Lucindy  called  attention  to  the 
damaging  fact,  —  the  "  circumstantial  proof," 
as  she  called  it,  —  to  the  little  piece  of  lace 
finery,  which,  it  must  be  allowed,  was  the  one 
only  bit  of  evidence  against  Daisy  Wilder's  com- 
plicity, if  nothing  else,  in  the  night's  escapade  of 
which  she  alone  stood  accused. 
206 


Exonerated. 

Daisy  attempted  no  strong  argument  against 
this  evidence,  and  injury  to  her  case,  except  to 
say,  "  I  cannot  explain  more  than  I  have, 
Miss  Lucindy.  I  repeat  that  I  am  innocent  of 
this  whole  charge  against  me;"  and  Daisy's 
voice  resounded  from  one  corner  of  the  recita- 
tion-room to  the  other.  Innocence,  determina- 
tion, and  indignation  all  in  the  words  :  "  I  am 
innocent  of  this  whole  charge  against  me." 

Over  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room  sat 
one  in  whose  face  were  the  marks  of  the  conflict 
that  had  been  going  on  in  her  heart ;  and  as 
Daisy  uttered  the  words,  "  I  am  innocent !  "  a 
voice,  strong  even  in  its  feebleness  of  emotion, 
cried  out  emphatically,— 

"  Yes,  she  is  innocent !  It  is  I  who  am 
guilty  ! " 

Teachers  and  pupils  followed  the  voice  to 
the  farthest  corner ;  and  a  look  of  surprise 
betrayed  itself  upon  all  their  faces,  as  the  self- 
accused  —  Beulah  Scilley  —  stood  up  to  face  her 
audience !  It  was  the  Misses  Bagley  who  seemed 
to  be  the  most  surprised,  as  it  was  Daisy  Wilder 
who  appeared  the  least  so. 

To  the  former,  Beulah  Scilley  had  been  the 
one  of  all  others  whose  conduct  had  seemed 
207 


'Twixt  You  and   Me. 

to  them  unimpeachable.  To  the  latter,  young 
as  she  was,  there  had  always  been  that  indefin- 
able something  which  had  poisoned  her  youth- 
ful mind  with  suspicion  and  prejudice ;  but 
no\v,  as  Beulah  Scilley  stood  before  her,  in  her 
helplessness,  Daisy  felt  a  sympathy  for  her  com- 
panion which  had  its  birth  with  the  little  con- 
fidential talk  above  stairs  in  the  early  morning. 
The  night  of  tears  was  all  explained  now;  but 
the  humiliation  of  Beulah  Scilley  was  not  the 
explanation  Daisy  would  have  chosen. 

A  solemn  hush  followed  Beulah  Scilley 's  con- 
fession,—  a  moment  of  embarrassment  to  all 
except  her ;  for,  with  her  confession,  the  burden 
at  her  heart  was  removed,  and  the  proud  girl's 
whole  nature  was  convulsed,  and  she  gave  vent 
to  an  outburst  of  tears  and  sobs  pitiful  to  listen 
to.  Daisy  begged  that  she  might  lead  her  com- 
panion away  to  the  peace  of  their  quiet  room. 
But,  no,  Beulah  had  one  more  word  to  say  be- 
fore she  should  accept  of  Daisy's  gentle  kind- 
nesses. 

She  had  not  intended,  she  said,  that  any  one 
should  suffer  for  her  misdeed  when  she  com- 
mitted it.  The  little  lace-trimmed  handkerchief 
was  not  left  behind  her  as  a  decoy.  That  was 
208 


Exonerated. 

purely  an  accident.  She  had  been  tracing  its 
letters  (Daisy  Wilder  having  lent  it  to  her  for 
that  purpose),  and  it  must  have  fallen  from  her 
belt  when  she  trespassed  upon  the  cook's  do- 
mains ;  for,  "  I  was  so  hungry ! "  said  Beulah, 
in  such  a  pathetic  tone  that  all  the  girls  sym- 
pathized with  Beulah's  physical  state  of  hunger, 
even  if  they  could  not  at  once  forgive  the  latter 
for  bringing  upon  their  beloved  schoolmate, 
Daisy  Wilder,  so  much  trouble ;  but,  following 
Daisy's  example,  each  girl  vied  with  the  other 
to  express  a  new  confidence  in  the  self-accused 
Beulah,  and  judgment  was  suspended  for  the 
time  being. 

Alone  with  Daisy,  Beulah  opened  her  aching 
heart  anew  to  her ;  and  as  the  door  of  "  Room 
Number  Ten  "  closed  against  all  intruders,  the 
latter  said,  "  Oh,  I  have  so  wanted  to  tell  you 
everything,  Daisy,  but  I  could  not !  I  knew 
yon  must  hate  me,  and  I  have  hated  myself. 
Although  I  am  so  miserable  now,  I  am  happier, 
far  happier,  than  I  have  been  for  weeks.  And 
you  won't  quite  hate  me,  Daisy  ?  You  will  love 
me  just  a  little,  —  just  a  little,  Daisy  ?  "  urged 
Beulah.  "  I  might  have  been  different  if  I  had 
been  better  understood  — and  never  come  here  !  " 
u  209 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

And  Daisy !  Did  she  not  know  full  well 
what  that  one  word  meant  ?  Understood !  She 
had  entered  the  "Misses  Bagley's  Fashionable 
Boarding-School "  a  merry-hearted  girl,  but 
suspicion  and  ill-meted  discipline  had  made 
another  person  of  her,  and  she  longed  for  the 
time  when  honest  fun  could  be  tolerated,  and 
not  frowned  upon  as  something  to  be  deplored. 

And  that  time  was  coming !  Even  now  its 
promise  was  heralded,  for  the  Misses  Bagley 
had  been  given  new  light,  and  already  were  led 
to  examine  themselves  by  the  dawning  of  love 
and  charity,  which  crept  into  their  hearts  with 
the  lesson  of  the  hour.  Carefully  they  ex- 
amined their  mode  of  discipline,  their  laws  of 
compulsory  obedience,  and  promised  a  refor- 
mation, in  which  obedience  should  be  tempered 
with  better  judgment. 

And  the  victory  was  Daisy  Wilder's  !  She  it 
was  who  had  vanquished  every  enemy  to  her 
happiness  at  Bagley  Hall.  And  the  little  voice 
in  her  ear  seemed  still  saying,  by  way  of  en- 
couragement in  the  future  and  in  justification 
of  the  past,  "  Do  your  duty,  and  nothing  can 
harm  you,  even  though  the  world  seem  against 
you." 

210 


Exonerated. 

Before  night,  the  Angel  of  Peace  spread  its 
wings  over  Bagley  Hall,  bringing  forgiveness 
for  Beulah  Scilley,  and  from  out  Daisy  Wilder's 
"  Pandora  box  "  came  Hope  for  future  happiness 
with  the  reconciliation  that  came  to  all.  The 
struggle  had  been  a  hard  one  for  Daisy,  but 
she  could  bid  defiance  to  it  now,  with  the  re- 
turn of  sunshine,  the  return  of  happiness;  and 
she  hastened  to  cheer  the  heart  of  her  friend, 
Rosemary  McBurnie,  by  sending  to  her  a  fra- 
grant spray  of  the 

LILY  OF   THE   VALLEY. 


211 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 


Lily  of  the  Valley. 

Return  of  Happiness. 


Oh,  my  life  was  full  of  Sorrow, 

Yesterday  ! 
Long  1  pleaded  that  the  Morrow 

Bring  To-day  '. 

Brinr/  the  sunshine  of  the  Morrow ; 
So  I  bade  adieu  to  Sorrow, 

Yesterday. 

For  the  sunshine  ivith  the  Morrow. 

Came  To-day  ! 
Banished  Care,  and  banished  Sorrow, 

Yesterday ! 

Joy  bells,  ringing  in  the  Morrow  : 
Told  the  going  out  of  Sorroic, 
Yesterday .' 

Grace  Le  Baron. 


212 


VII. 

AT  THE  MEECY  OF  THE   SEA. 

SWEET   PEA.      DEPARTURE. 

MEANTIME,  the  little  island  which  had  been 
to  Rosemary  and  Daisy  a  summer  home 
since  earliest  childhood,  still  opened  its  harbor 
of  refuge  to  shelter  and  protect  the  unlucky 
crafts  that  did  not  heed  the  warning  call  of  the 
bell  buoy  off  the  Bar,  or  the  revolving  light  in 
the  light-house  top  ;  but  the  winter  thus  far  had 
been  one  of  peace  and  freedom  from  disaster,  for 
only  a  heavily  laden  coal  barge  had  accepted  of 
the  hospitality  thus  offered. 

To  be  sure,  anxiety  and  prayers  for  its  safety 
had  for  a  brief  hour  disturbed  the  hearts  of 
those  on  shore,  as  they  watched  the  black  object 
battling  with  the  elements ;  but  when  it  dropped 
anchor  in  the  harbor  of  safety,  excitement  was 
over,  and  the  island  relapsed  into  its  quietude, 
where  "  wars  "  never  came,  and  where  "  rumors 
of  wars  "  only  reached  when  the  mail  came  in, 
which  of  late  had  lost  a  little  of  its  accustomed 
215 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

regularity,  for  the  old  "  Farmer's  Almanac  "  had 
rightly  said,  "  About  now,  cold,  with  harsh,  va- 
riable weather,  and  high  winds." 

So  news  from  the  "  continent  "  became  infre- 
quent, and  life  on  the  island  was  a  singularly 
quiet  one,  rarely  disturbed  in  its  peace  except 
as  now  and  then,  with  the  "  passing  away  "  of  one 
or  another  of  its  octogenarians,  which  was  al- 
ways commented  upon  as  "  a  happy  change  "  by 
those  who  were  left  to  testify  to  the  virtues 
and  the  usefulness  of  the  long  life  ended  in 
glory. 

In  some  way,  news  of  Beulah  Scilley's  humil- 
iation had  reached  the  island  (it  was  even 
said,  however,  that  Beulah  herself  had  furnished 
the  account),  although  Daisy  Wilder's  name  had 
never  been  mentioned  in  connection  with  the 
story  that  reached  Beulah's  home.  The  account, 
as  received,  was  viewed  in  every  light,  and  much 
justice  was  done  all,  by  the  honest  criticism  of 
the  islanders,  whose  loyalty  bound  them  together 
in  clannish  union. 

Said  Mrs.  Tobey,  "  an  old  inhabitant,"  "  Well, 

the  poor  thing  never  had  any  mothering,  and 

the  Lord  knows,  Mrs.  Barney's  hands  and  heart 

were  full  without  her;"  and  the  former's  hus- 

216 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

band,  an  old  superannuated  captain  who  lived 
always  in  a  past  over  which  Neptune  reigned 
supreme,  replied,  "  Yes,  wife,  that  girl  Beulah 
was  jest  a  leetle  bit  too  much  o'  ballast,  there ! " 
Which  was  all  quite  true. 

But  to  return.  Life  in  the  winter  on  the 
island  was  quite  in  contrast  to  that  when  the 
summer  visitors  came,  with  the  rumbling  of 
baggage-wagons,  and  a  love  in  their  hearts 
for  the  natural  beauties  and  advantages  of  their 
summer  home.  The  occupations  of  the  islanders 
themselves  changed,  too,  with  the  seasons. 

At  the  first  sign  of  winter,  old  Sam  Barnard 
(whose  years  even  had  never  given  to  him  other 
than  that  of  the  nickname  "  Breezy  Barnard," 
because  of  his  vivacity —  a  mild  name  to  give  his 
weakness  !  —  which,  however,  Father  Time  had 
in  no  small  measure  crushed  out  of  the  old  man's 
nature),  would  retire  to  his  boat-house  on  the 
wharf,  and  with  trembling  fingers  mend  his 
time-worn  fishing-nets,  that  they  might  be  ready 
for  another  season ;  and  later  the  old  man  would 
bring  out  his  pets,  his  twin  rowboats,  the 
"  Swan "  and  the  "  Cygnet,"  to  receive  their 
new  coat  of  paint,  that  they  might  be  launched 
upon  the  waters  and  do  their  share  in  enter- 
217 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

taining  and,  too,  in  increasing  Sam's  weekly 
revenue. 

The  engine,  whose  speed  had  so  disturbed 
Mrs.  Valentine,  was  seemingly  tired  out  and 
resting,  —  as  were  Mrs.  Valentine's  nerves. 
Mild  jollifications,  such  as  family  teas  and  the 
like  harmless  amusements,  were  indulged  in,  as 
if  to  reunite  the  bond  of  relationship  which  the 
summer  life  had  separated,  but  not  severed. 
One  hostelry  kept  open  its  doors  to  catch  the 
stray  traveller  who  lingered  longer  than  his 
companions,  that  he  might  hear  the  roar  of  old 
Ocean  ;  and  old  Ocean,  true  to  its  birthright, 
roared  just  now  as  never  before. 

The  weather-wise  old  captains  sat  in  conclave 
over  a  storm  that  was  brewing,  as  indicated  by 
the  signals  of  one  wiser  than  they,  booked  in 
storm  and  tempest  lore. 

And  it  came  at  last!  —  came,  with  all  its 
fury  of  white-capped  waves,  that  beat  against 
the  sea  wall  on  the  south  side  of  the  island, 
till  the  high  bluff  seemed  to  grow  weaker  with 
every  tempest,  with  every  storm. 

The  wind  and  the  snow  had  their  little  game 
of  battledoor  and  shuttlecock ;  and  the  night 
closed  in !  —  just  as  the  night  closed  in  upon 
218 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

the  "  Leviathan "  in  those  other  days,  which 
recalled  themselves  anew  to  the  sorrowful  heart 
of  the  Widow  Valentine  with  every  such  storm 
as  the  present  one. 

Again  she  looked  out  on  the  night ! 

Again  she  prayed  the  prayer  that  God  would 
care  for  "  those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in 
ships ! "  And  many  hearts  responded  to  her 
cry,  for  the  fury  of  that  storm  was  one  that 
must  ever  remain  imprinted  in  the  memory  of 
the  oldest  inhabitants  of  the  little  island. 

Again  Mrs.  Valentine  and  her  daughter 
Phoebe  sat  together,  each  trying  to  shut  from 
her  own  knowledge,  and  that  of  the  other,  the 
wildness  of  the  storm  outside,  by  an  attempt  at 
conversation.  It  was  the  night  following  a  visit 
from  Beulah  Scilley's  aunt,  Mrs.  Barney,  when 
the  latter  had  taken  her  neighbors,  the  Valen- 
tines, into  her  confidence,  and  said,  — 

"  Beulah  always  was  a  singular  child.  1  never 
could  find  that  girl's  heart,  when  she  was  young, 
and  I  never  have  since.  My  sister,  when  she 
died  (poor  thing!),  put  Beulah  in  my  care  until 
her  father  should  come  back  to  claim  her ;  but 
Richard  Scilley  will  never  quit  his  roving  life  of 
a  sailor  long  enough  to  land  on  this  island  to 
219 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

put  in  his  claim.  Ho  was  a  good-for-naught 
always,  —  yes,  even  when  Susan  J.  married 
him.  But  1  meant  the  girl  should  have  an 
education,  at  any  rate,  and  how  I  have  scrimped 
and  scrimped  to  send  her  to  that  fashionable 
boarding-school !  And  now,  just  see  !  " 

And  as  Mrs.  Barney  finished  the  story  of 
Beulah's  short  life,  she  seemed  to  look  as  she 
felt,  —  that  the  latter  had  disgraced  herself  and 
everybody  belonging  to  her.  It  was  to  be  de- 
plored, that  with  the  story  of  Beulah's  disgrace 
there  could  not  have  come  that  other  of  her  new 
life  at  Bagley  Hall,  and  that  helpful  friendship 
with  Daisy  Wilder. 

No,  Mrs.  Barney  never  had  found  the  way 
to  Beulah's  heart.  Indeed,  it  may  almost  be 
doubted  if  she  ever  had  the  time  to  do  so.  She 
had  had  her  own  little  brood  to  guard  and  look 
after,  and  Beulah  Scilley  had  been  to  her  only 
another  care ;  but  she  had  tried  to  do  her  duty 
by  the  girl  as  well  as  she  knew  how ;  yet,  as 
Captain  Tobey  had  wisely  said,  "  Beulah  Scilley 
had  been  an  unneeded  bit  o'  ballast."  It  had 
remained,  then,  as  has  been  seen,  for  Daisy 
Wilder  to  become  the  successful  explorer  of 
that  organ  of  Beulah  Scilley's  anatomy. 
220 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

"  Who  was  Beulah's  father  ? "  asked  Phoebe 
Valentine  of  her  mother,  as  the  two  sat  to- 
gether the  night  of  the  storm.  "  Mrs.  Barney 
does  not  seem  to  have  any  too  much  love  for 
her  brother-in-law.  Who  was  he?" 

"  Oh,  some  off-islander,  I  believe,"  replied 
Mrs.  Valentine,  intimating  in  her  tone  that,  as 
Richard  Scilley  was  an  o^f-i  slander,  the  islanders 
were  not  to  be  held  responsible  for  any  of  his 
shortcomings. 

"  And  was  he  ever  a  sea  captain  ? "  again 
inquired  Phoebe,  with  a  desire,  let  it  be  said, 
to  engage  her  mother  in  conversation,  and  so 
make  her  oblivious  to  the  sound  of  the  storm 
outside,  rather  than  in  any  real  interest  which 
she  had  in  the  fortunes  and  fate  of  Richard 
Scilley. 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  her  mother  ;  "  I  doubt  if 
Richard  Scilley  ever  aspired  to  so  high  a  place 
in  the  world  as  that.  Although,  as  Mrs.  Barney 
says,  he  has  always  been  a  good-for-naught,  yet 
I  am  disposed  to  agree  with  Captain  Coleman, 
who  met  him  out  in  Australia,  and  think  with 
him,  Scilley  was  a  '  misfortunate.'  He  has 
always  led  a  roving  life,  —  sometimes  that  of 
a  landsman,  but  oftener,  I  think,  that  of  a 
221 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

sailor  (although  I  believe  he  has  been  a  Jonah 
on  every  ship  he  sailed  with ! ) ;  but  nothing  has 
now  been  heard  from  him  for  many,  many 
years." 

"  And  his  wife,  what  of  her,  mother  ? "  inter- 
rupted Phoebe. 

"  Well,  between  you  and  me,"  replied  her 
mother,  "  I  never  thought  Susan  J.  just  the 
right  balance-wheel  for  him.  But  she  is  dead 
and  gone,  poor  thing !  —  and  perhaps  he  is,  too, 
as  to  that.  I  do  not  like  to  be  uncharitable,  but 
I  must  say,  though,  that  I  think,  from  what  I 
have  heard  of  him,  he  was  always  too  light- 
headed to  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea :  he 
would  float  in  any  storm.  But  there !  it  is  all 
hearsay  with  me.  He  started  for  the  Austra- 
lian gold  fields  full  of  visions ;  but  Captain 
Coleman  says  everything  went  wrong  with  him 
from  the  outset,  and  finally,  when  the  news 
came  of  his  wife's — Susan  J.'s — death,  he 
lost  heart  entirely.  Such  unfortunates  need  our 
sympathy  as  well  as  censure.  I  never  saw  the 
man  in  my  life,  but  they  tell  me  that  Beulah 
favors  her  mother  in  looks.  Peculiar  girl !  but 
I  cannot  say  what  has  made  her  so, —  inheri- 
tance or  education." 

OO9 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

So  Phoebe  Valentine  did  not  pursue  further 
her  investigations  of  Richard  Scilley,  "  the 
raisfortunate,"  and  soon  she  and  her  mother 
retired  to  their  rooms  for  the  night,  Mrs.  Val- 
entine with  an  ominous  feeling  that  such  a 
storm  must  bring  disaster. 

And  disaster  came  ! 

At  midnight,  the  discordant  sounds  of  the 
town-crier's  signal-horn  announced  to  the 
sleepers  in  all  its  horror,  "  Wreck  on  the  south 
side  of  the  island  !  "  To  many,  as  to  the 
Widow  Valentine,  it  brought  sad  memories ; 
for  to  the  latter  it  came  with  that  anniversary 
of  an  hour  which  had  for  almost  half  a  century 
been  her  "  reckoning  day." 

All  was  excitement  in  the  usually  quiet  town, 
for  was  it  not  the  time  when 

"  Men  must  work  ; 
And  women  must  weep  ; 

And  the  harbor  bar  lies  moaning  "  ? 

Stout  hearts  responded  to  the  cry  of  alarm,  and 
brawny  hands  were  outstretched  to  aid  in  the 
work  of  rescue,  already  begun  by  that  valiant 
company  of  men  who,  through  the  dark  watches 
of  the  night,  become  in  reality  their  "  brother's 
keeper,"  as  they  patrol  the  long  beach  and  defy 
223 


Twixt  You  and   Me. 

the  elements,  ever  ready  to  respond  to  "  Ship 
ahoy !  "  with  the  life-line  and  manly  courage 
and  bravery ! 

It  was  a  vivid  picture, —  that  scene  of  disaster! 

The  long,  unbroken  stretch  of  beach,  strewn 
with  wreckage,  which  the  storm-tossed  ocean 
was  ever  bringing  to  the  feet  of  the  excited 
crowd  on  shore  ! 

The  high  bluff,  shaking  and  quivering  under 
the  strain,  as  if  threatening  dissolution  from  its 
parent,  Mother  Earth ! 

Lanterns,  up  and  down  the  shore  at  intervals, 
only  served  to  add  to  the  gloom  of  the  darkness 
and  threatening  death  ! 

The  voices  of  the  men  seemed  as  whispers  to 
the  hoarse  roars  of  the  mighty  ocean,  tossing 
and  Becthirig  in  its  anger ! 

Off  in  the  stormy  waters,  outlined  against  a 
background  of  darkness  and  despair,  was  the 
ship  that  cried  for  succor !  Her  tall  masts  bend 
to  the  ruthless  fury  of  the  gale,  and  their  fall 
sounds  like  a  prolonged  cry  of  misery,  which, 
when  the  roll  shall  be  called,  will  be  echoed  in 
the  brave  hearts  of  the  crew,  when  it  will  be 
known  that  some  of  their  companions  have  been 
swept  away  in  the  darkness ! 
224 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

Every  man  on  shore  knew  the  peril  that 
threatened  that  sailor  family,  as  through  the 
fitful  flashes  of  the  distress  signals  could  be 
seen  the  struggle  the  sailors  were  making  for 
life  ! 

Lifeboats  were  useless  in  such  a  wild  night, 
but  hands  were  ever  ready  and  outstretched  to 
man  them,  if  need  be !  The  one  thought  was, 
rescue,  in  the  minds  of  all,  whether  clinging 
with  benumbed  hands  to  the  rigging,  or  stand- 
ing eagerly  anxious  to  succor  their  brothers  in 
peril ! 

"  The  life-line  !  The  life-line  !  "  was  the  cry  ; 
and  as  the  life-line  sped  through  the  dark  night 
of  warning,  eyes  peered  into  the  darkness,  wait- 
ing, watching,  for  the  issue.  Alas !  it  has 
failed  on  its  errand  !  And  another,  and  another, 
follows  the  flash  of  the  howitzer,  and  the  prayers 
of  those  who  send  them ! 

At  last !  At  last !  God  be  praised  !  The 
hoarse,  prolonged  cry  from  those  on  shore  finds 
a  response  from  the  grateful  hearts  of  those  in 
jeopardy  at  sea,  although  the  lips  falter  in  their 
weakness,  as  the  benumbed  hands  grasp  the 
life-line  that  will  bring  with  it  prolonged  misery 
to  some,  but  help  to  others,  who  can  still  fight 
15  225 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

the  raging  of  the  sea  and  the  battle  for  life ! 
The  moments  seem  interminable  to  the  waiting, 
anxious  crowd,  whose  hands  tremble  with  eager 
expectancy,  as  the  life-line  starts  on  its  return 
mission,  with  its  weight  of  benumbed  humanity  ! 

By  the  dim  light  of  the  lanterns,  the  pale 
faces  of  the  sailors  are  visible  in  their  mute 
appeal  for  help.  To  some  it  has  come  too  late, 
for  it  is  found  some  lips  are  stilled  forever, 
and  the  crowd  bend  in  reverence,  to  Him,  the 
Saviour  of  Souls,  the  Conqueror !  The  work  of 
the  resuscitation  of  the  rest  is  now  the  demand 
of  the  hour ;  and  the  weary  eyelids  open,  and 
the  feeble  lips  try  their  very  utmost  to  speak 
the  thankfulness  of  the  heart,  while  the  dawn- 
ing daylight  reveals  the  havoc  of  the  night ! 

Such  was  the  wreck  of  the  "  Meteor,"  on  that 
winter's  night. 

It  was  a  slow,  almost  disheartening  experience 
for  the  brave  survivors  of  that  night  of  terror, 
in  their  efforts  to  recover  from  its  exposures ; 
and  as,  one  by  one,  the  sailors  bade  "  adieu  "  to 
their  benefactors,  the  links  in  memory's  chain 
became  sundered,  and  the  former  started  out 
again  in  their  life  upon  the  waters,  while  the 
226 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

latter  comprehended  anew  the  story  of  the  Good 
Samaritan ;  but  the  wreck  of  the  ill-fated  ship 
remained  beaten  about  by  the  waves,  a  monu- 
ment to  those  of  its  crew  who  gave  up  their  lives 
on  that  night,  and  slept  in  Eternity's  waters. 

Amongst  the  temporary  homes  offered  the 
few  survivors  of  that  storm,  none  opened  wider 
its  door  than  that  of  the  Widow  Valentine,  who, 
with  her  daughter  Phcebe,  stood  ready  in  such 
an  hour  of  emergency  to  interpret,  in  its  most 
sacred  meaning,  the  Golden  Rule.  With  the 
aid  of  an  old  woman,  who  in  her  younger  days 
had  been  a  most  efficient  nurse  and  still  had  a 
liking  for  the  profession,  Mrs.  Valentine  and 
Phrebe  watched  with  loving  care  over  the  sailor 
committed  to  their  keeping,  although  his  case 
did  not  respond  satisfactorily  to  the  nursing  be- 
stowed upon  him,  for  convalescence  was  slow. 

Little  could  be  learned  of  the  sick  man,  even 
from  his  shipmates,  save  that  the  latter  had 
once  looked  upon  him  as  a  weak-minded  man, 
who  seemed  always  to  be  living  in  a  life  of 
regret.  It  was  to  one  of  these  sailors  that  Mrs. 
Valentine  turned  for  some  further  knowledge  of 
him  whose  helplessness  appealed  to  her  tender 
motherly  heart. 

227 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

"What  do  I  know  of  him,  ma'am  ?  is  it  you 
ask  ?  Nothing,"  said  the  man  thus  addressed. 

"  What !  not  even  his  name  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Valentine.  "  Then,  pray,  how  did  you  address 
him  ? " 

"  Oh,  ay,  ay,  ma'am  ;  we  had  a  name  for  him, 
and  you  can  call  him  the  same  if  you  like.  This 
is  the  way  of  it ; "  and  the  shipwrecked  sailor, 
to  whom  the  Fates  had  been  kind,  and  restored 
to  his  old-time  self,  commenced  to  explain  the 
circumstances  that  led  to  the  naming  of  the 
unknown. 

"  We  had  put  into  port  off  the  coast  of  Africa, 
and  one  day  the  captain  came  back  to  the  ship 
with  this  man  in  tow.  (You  see  we  were  one 
hand  short,  for  the  Swede,  Carl  Olson,  —  God 
rest  his  soul !  —  had,  a  little  while  before,  entered 
Davy  Jones'  locker.)  Well,  as  I  was  a-saying, 
the  new  hand  came  aboard  with  the  captain,  and 
of  course  we  all  wanted  to  be  friendly  with  him, 
but  we  never  had  been  told  what  his  name  was. 
So,  one  day,  I  made  bold  to  ask  him. 

"  Says  I,  '  Who  are  you,  shipmate  ? ' 

"  '  I  am  a  sinner,'  says  he. 

" '  Then  we  belong  to  the  one  family,'  says  L 

"  Well,  ma'am,  that  was  all  that  we  could  get 
2-28 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

from  him,  although  all  the  crew  lent  a  hand  at 
trying  to  find  out;  but  all  the  answer  any  of  us 
got  was, '  I  am  a  sinner.' 

"  He  did  n't  have  very  much  to  say  to  us. 
Silent,  like,  all  the  time.  Leastwise,  he  seemed 
to  be  talking  to  himself  for  a  good  part ;  and 
when  we  boys  would  tease  him,  he  always  took 
our  teasing  good-natured  enough ;  but  he  was 
always  a-talking  about  —  her !  Some  sweet- 
heart, we  supposed,  for  he  was  always  a-saying, 
'  Poor  girl !  where  is  she  now  ?  oh,  if  I  had  n't 
left  her  !  I  must  find  her  ! ' 

"  He  seemed  to  the  rest  of  us  weak-minded, 
like ;  and  yet  there  were  days,  ma'am,  when  he 
was  as  wise  as  the  next  one.  Of  course  he  was 
lovesick,  or  love-silly,  whichever  you  please  to 
call  it ;  and  finally  he  got  to  be  known  as  '  Silly 
Sinner.'  Oh,  but  he  was  sharp,  though,  I  can 
tell  you.  He  had  his  choice  of  names.  Some- 
how, he  did  n't  mind  being  called  a '  Sinner,'  but 
to  be  called  k  Silly '  was  quite  another  thing. 
You  should  have  seen  him  the  day  Steve  John- 
son called  him  '  Silly.'  Why,  his  eyes  looked 
fire  and  brimstone,  and  he  just  faced  Steve  and 
doubled  up  his  fists  to  him,  and  said,  '  No,  not 
that !  Don't  you  call  me  that,  ever,  man ! '  And 
229 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

no  one  aboard  that  ship  dared  ever  afterwards 
to  call  him  '  Silly  '  again,  though  we  all  thought 
he  was  a  bit  weak-minded :  and  until  that  day 
we  always  called  him  harmless. 

"  No,  ma'am,  he  did  n't  seem  to  mind  it  one 
bit  if  we  called  him  '  Sinner,'  and  so  he  always 
went  by  the  name  of  '  that  Sinner '  aboard  ship 
for  the  rest  of  the  voyage,  —  until  we  anchored, 
here  in  this  harbor,  at  least.  So  now  you  have 
it,  —  all  the  name  we  know  of,  ma'am." 

And  this  was  all  the  satisfaction  and  infor- 
mation that  Mrs.  Valentine  could  gain  of  her 
patient.  She  did  not  look  favorably  upon  his 
ship's  name  ;  and  after  a  conversation  with 
Phcebe,  they  both  determined  upon  the  favorite 
one  given  by  the  islanders  to  all  who  had  no 
claims  upon  the  island,  and  occasionally,  be  it 
said,  bestowed  upon  those  who  felt,  as  did  Rose- 
mary McBurnie  and  Daisy  Wilder,  the  name  ill- 
fitted. 

Yes,  "  Stranger,"  he  must  be  called,  and 
"  Stranger  "  he  would  have  to  remain  until  the 
dulled  senses  should  resume  their  work,  and  the 
wheels  of  Memory  revolve  more  understandinglv 
about  a  Past  which  seemed  so  veiled  in  obscurity 
and  forgetf ulness  ;  for  everything  seemed  blotted 
230 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

from  his  mind,  except  that  one  night  when  he 
had  clung  to  life  with  a  tenacity  ill-proportioned 
to  his  strength,  and  his  Past  dated  only  from  that 
night  of  anxious  vigil.  Everything  else  seemed 
a  blank  to  him.  The  physician  held  out  only 
one  hope,  which  was  that  as  the  shock  had 
brought  the  climax,  so  perhaps  it  might  be  a 
return  of  reason  would  come  with  some  other 
sudden  emotion,  that  should  open  wide  the 
doors  of  the  Past,  with  the  joy  of  a  Present  in 
the  anticipations  of  a  Future ! 

But  the  "  Stranger  "  would  sit  for  hours  peer- 
ing through  his  latticed  blinds,  and  watching  the 
ocean  about  him.  He  positively  refused  to  have 
his  blinds  opened  wide,  —  sometimes  giving  as 
an  excuse  that  the  light  was  painful  to  his  eyes, 
but  oftener  expressing  his  fear  that  some  one 
would  see  him  ;  for  he  had  a  dislike  to  company, 
and  avoided  everybody  but  those  who  ministered 
so  tenderly  to  him.  And  the  Widow  Valentine 
and  her  helpers  never  faltered  in  their  care,  the 
widow  strengthened  ever  with  the  thought,  "  I 
am  doing,  as  I  would  to  God  others  might  have 
done  for  —  him."  Once  she  tried  to  test  the 
"  Stranger's  "  strength,  but,  alas !  with  a  result 
that  only  emphasized  his  weakness. 
231 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

"  How  did  you  like  a  seafaring  life,  Stranger  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Don't  know  much  about  it.  Only  lived 
through  one  night  of  it,"  he  replied. 

Alas !  the  one  night  he  had  lived  through  was 
his  only  memory,  and  pity  't  was,  that  one,  too, 
could  not  have  been  buried  in  forgetf illness 
with  those  others  of  his  life.  Once  only  did 
the  man  manifest  the  least  return  to  reason, 
and  himself.  That  came  when  Nurse  Dobson 
stood  by,  rubbing  and  bathing  his  poor  hands, 
that  still  bore  the  marks  of  the  battle  for 
life.  Her  attention  was  attracted  to  the  picture 
of  a  young  child  tattooed  into  the  Stranger's 
wrist. 

"What  a  pretty  little  girl,  Stranger!"  said 
Nurse  Dobson,  as  she  divided  her  thoughts, 
between  the  face  that  smiled  out  from  its  strange 
framing,  and  reflections  over  the  barbarous  cus- 
tom which  had  so  successfully,  if  not  artistically, 
accomplished  its  delineation. 

The  man  looked  down  at  the  image  imprinted 
thus  indelibly  into  his  flesh,  and  for  the  first  time 
a  smile  seemed  to  overspread  his  wan  face.  He 
made  a  feeble  effort  to  raise  to  his  lips  the  almost 
lifeless  arm  (for  it  still  bore  the  signs  of  the  con- 
232 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

flict  with  Jack  Frost) ,  as  if  to  kiss  the  picture 
upon  it. 

"  Who  is  she,  Stranger  ? "  asked  Nurse  Dob- 
son.  "  Ah !  some  little  sweetheart,  I  guess. 
Is  it  so  ? "  And  as  she  put  the  questions  to 
her  patient,  she  hoped,  almost  beyond  hope,  that 
the  picture  might  prove  a  mirror  to  reflect 
the  Stranger's  past,  and  to  unloose  his  silent 
tongue. 

But  the  vacant  stare  was  resumed,  and  the 
conversation  was  dropped ;  and  the  Stranger 
returned  to  his  old  life  of  silence. 

And  the  winter  merged  into  spring. 

The  moors  again  spread  their  carpet  of  prom- 
ised loveliness. 

The  white  fleet  in  the  harbor  unfurled  their 
sails  as  if  waiting  for  their  absent  crews. 

"  The  sound  of  the  hammer  was  again  heard 
in  the  land,"  in  preparation ;  for  Summer  was 
the  expected  guest  of  To-morrow,  —  a  To- 
morrow that  others  beside  the  islanders  antici- 
pated. 

Off  in  her  city  home  Rosemary  McBurnie  was 
counting  the  days  that  must  pass  before  she 
should  turn  her  face  —  that  face  now  so  pale  — 
233 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

towards  her  summer  home,  there  to  welcome 
the  breezes,  that  she  hoped  would  be  an  elixir  to 
bring  again  her  lost  strength.  Already  the 
annual  message  had  been  sent  to  Sam  Meader, 
to  loosen  from  its  moorings  the  garden  boat, 
and  anchor  it  in  its  old-time  harbor  between  the 
cottages  on  the  beach. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Rosemary,  as  the  prepara- 
tions for  departure  were  drawing  near  comple- 
tion, —  "  mamma,  I  am  hoping  so  much  from  this 
summer.  What  will  it  bring,  I  wonder  ?  " 

In  the  motber's  heart  the  question  was  re- 
peated, "What  will  it  bring?" 

Oh,  wondering  waiting  hearts  !  "  Take  no 
thought  for  the  morrow,"  but  learn  the  lesson 
of  the  lilies,  and  watch  the  sparrows  in  their 
fall. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Rosemary,  "  that  we  shall 
have  to  wait  weeks,  perhaps,  for  the  Wilders ; 
but  then  it  is  so  much  easier  to  wait  for  a 
friend  than  to  say,  '  Good-bye.'  I  think  I  will 
send  Daisy  a  message  to  let  her  know  that  we 
are  soon  going  to  our  island  Paradise." 

The   two  girls,  in    their  great    fondness    for 
their   summer   home,   were   so    accustomed    to 
speak   in    such   exaggerated   terms    of   it,  that 
234 


At  the  Mercy  of  the  Sea. 

the  only  thought  which  suggested  itself  to  the 
mother's  heart  was  that  their  island  home 
might  bring  happiness  and  convalescence  to 
Rosemary,  and  be  indeed  an  earthly  Paradise, 
—  in  its  fulfilment  of  hoped-for  blessings  to 
both ;  and  so,  buoyed  up  by  such  thoughts, 
Mrs.  McBurnie  willingly  lent  herself  to  a  uni- 
son of  sympathy  to  send  a  messenger  to  Daisy 
Wilder ;  and  that  messenger  was  a  floral  spray 
with  the  blush  of  promise  upon  the  fragrant 
blossoms  of  the 

SWEET  PEA. 


235 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 


Sweet  Pea. 
Departure. 


Farewell  '. 
I  am  going  : 
There,  to  wait  the  coming  of  your  feet. 

I  am  going  : 
But  without  tliee  life  could  ne'er  be  sweet. 

Happy  day. 
That  day  of  meeting  ! 

Though  To-day, 
My  word  of  greeting 
Is,  —  Farewell ! 

Grace  Le  Baron. 


236 


VIII. 

BAGLEY   HALL. 

ANEMONE.      EXPECTATION. 

\  T  the  "  Misses  Bagley's  Fashionable  Board- 
IA.  ing-School  "  all  is  confusion  and  prepara- 
tion. The  school  year  is  about  to  close.  Adieus 
will  soon  be  spoken,  and  the  separations  to  fol- 
low will  be  to  some  of  the  pupils  a  separation 
over  which  uncertainty  will  breathe  its  benedic- 
tion. For  across  the  continent  is  a  long,  long 
journey,  and  it  is  doubtful  how  many  may  in  the 
future  take  it,  since  to  some,  home  is  bounded  by 
the  broad  Atlantic ;  while  to  others,  the  Pacific 
coast  is  their  "  Golden  Gate "  to  home  and 
happiness  ! 

And  such  changes  as  the  few  short  months 
have  wrought !  So  is  it  that  influence,  whether 
for  good  or  bad,  can  mould  our  lives  and  lay 
claim  to  our  inclinations. 

Daisy  Wilder  is  again  looking  into  her  "  Pan- 
dora box ; "  and  as  she  lifts  from  its  hiding-place 
the  dainty  pink  silk  dress,  her  mind  reverts 
239 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

to  that  day  of  her  coining  to  Bag-ley  Hall.  Only 
a  few  short  months  ago,  and  yet  how  different 
is  everything  now !  Teachers  and  pupils  are 
no  longer  living  in  separate  worlds,  but  bound 
together  by  a  bond  -of  sympathy  that  draws 
the  veil  of  oblivion  over  the  shortcomings  of 
both,  which  but  yesterday  stared  in  their  magni- 
fied magnitude,  and  were  as  stumbling-blocks 
in  the  way  of  happiness  and  harmony.  Even 
Miss  Abigail's  jute  head-dress  becomes  to 
the  imaginative  a  halo  about  her  wrinkled  face, 
transfigured  by  the  forgiving  light  of  mutual 
love ! 

Miss  Lucindy's  time-worn  mitts  may  still  con- 
ceal homely  bits  of  God's  workmanship,  but  the 
impressions  of  sympathetic  hands  give  them 
a  new  beauty  in  the  clasp  of  good- will. 

And  the  friendship  between  Daisy  Wilder  and 
Beulah  Scilley  is  an  awakening  that  has  brought 
with  it  a  mutual  helpful  influence,  and  many 
happy  hours,  for  the  two  girls  have  become 
almost  inseparable  since  that  day  of  Daisy 
Wilder's  justification,  which,  alas  !  brought  with 
it  the  accusation  of  Beulah  Scilley  ;  but  has  not 
much  "  good  come  out  of  Nazareth  "  ?  with  the 
return  of  the  latter's  birthright,  —  an  open 
•240 


Bagley  Hall. 

nature,  and  a  confidence  given  to  others  which 
calls  out  a  like  confidence  from  those  about 
her. 

The  two  girls  are  still  room-mates  in  "  Room 
Number  Ten  ;"  for  Daisy,  to  whom  the  choice  of 
a  change  had  been  given,  insisted  that  Beulah, 
and  Beulah  only,  must  be  her  chosen  companion, 
and  the  close  of  the  school  year  finds  them  living 
over  in  retrospect  the  days  of  the  past  with  their 
attendant  crosses  and  pleasures  of  life. 

Beulah,  it  is,  who  has  become  the  sapling  to  be 
protected  and  to  be  advised,  while  Daisy  Wilder 
is  become  as  the  pine-tree,  full  of  strength, —  full 
of  that  strength  of  character  which  makes  her  a 
leader  and  an  adviser  to  her  schoolmates. 

"  Well,"  said  Daisy,  as  she  packed  away  her 
books  (it  is  to  be  feared,  with  a  certain  amount 
of  satisfaction  which  she  could  not  disguise),  — 
*•  well,  I  have  really  done  better  than  I  thought 
1  should  when  I  first  entered  this  little  room, 
and  became  piece  of  merchandise  '  Number  Ten/ 
I  know  the  Greek  alphabet  by  heart,  and  as  for 
Algebra  —  well,  I  'm  not  half  bad  in  it !  for  I 
can  keep  my  current  expenses,  and  account  for 
every  cent,  even  to  those  I  spend  for  pickles  and 
chocolates." 

16  241 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

"  Yes,  and  your  conduct  mark  is  '  Exemplary 
A,'  "  interrupted  Beulah. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,  '  Exemplary  A,'  as  my 
report  reads ;  but  I  do  not  feel  myself  just 
entitled  to  such  honors,"  replied  Daisy,  who 
could  not  quite  forget  those  days  of  Welsh  rare- 
bit and  indigestion. 

"  Be  sure  that  Miss  Abigail  would  never  have 
given  you  that  high  mark  if  she  had  not  thought 
you  deserved  it.  I  do  not  doubt  but  that  she  has 
been  working  for  weeks  over  those  minus  and 
plus  signs  on  your  record  page ;  and  behold  the 
result !  "  said  Beulah. 

"  Yes,  I  know  Miss  Abigail  has  of  late  grown 
very  forgiving,"  replied  Daisy. 

"  And  do  you  know  who  it  is  she  holds  respon- 
sible for  the  marked  change  in  her  —  in  every 
one  —  at  Bagley  Hall  ?  "  asked  Beulah. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  gayly  replied  Daisy.  "  I  know  of 
one  whom  she  holds  responsible  for  one  thing  at 
least,  —  one  happy  change,  —  that  happy  change 
from  chiccory  to  coffee."  And  Daisy's  words 
were  interpreted  by  her  merry  laugh  and  tell-tale 
look,  which,  however,  soon  followed  with  a  more 
penitent  one,  as  she  said  to  her  companion,  "  I 
know  that  I  did  very  wrong  at  that  time,  although 
242 


Bagley  Hall. 

I  really  did  not  mean  to ;  but  I  forgive  myself 
by  thinking  that  out  of  evil  has  come  good,  — 
for  it  was  the  best  quality.      You  know  that !  " 
And  Daisy  recalled  her  temptation. 

"  It  is  you,  Daisy,  that  Miss  Abigail  holds 
responsible  for  the  peaceful  atmosphere  of 
Bagley  Hall,"  said  Beulah.  "  She  told  me  so 
herself." 

"  I  ?  "  asked  Daisy,  in  an  inquiring  but  doubt- 
ing tone.  "  I  ?  Why,  what  have  I  done,  —  or 
rather,  what  have  n't  I  done  ?  No,  Beulah,  if 
anything  that  1  have  —  or  have  not  done  —  has 
brought  about  good  results,  it  is  Rosemary 
McBurnie,  and  not  I,  who  is  the  saint  of  Bagley 
Hall.  Dear  Rosemary  McBurnie !  It  is  her 
strength  and  her  influence  that  have  helped  me 
to  help  you,  if  I  ever  have.  And  now  she  has 
gone  where  I  hope  the  sea  breezes  will  bring  back 
the  color  to  her  cheeks.  Mother  wrote  me  that 
she  was  going,  and  I  judged,  from  the  message 
Rosemary  last  sent  me,  that  she  had  started. 
She  must  get  well !  for  a  summer  without  her 
will  be  like  a  summer  without  the  roses  ;  but 
then,"  added  Daisy,  "  I  always  said  Rosemary, 
even  as  a  little  girl,  was  not  of  this  earth,  but 
that  she  '  belonged  in  cloudland  where  the  angels 
243 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

live.'  Ho\v  I  wish  I  were  going  right  to  our 
summer  home  now,  to  be  with  Rosemary  and 
you,  Beulah  ;  for  you  will  be  there  soon,  won't 
you?  Oh,  dear,  how  can  I  wait  four  weeks! 
but  I  must,  I  suppose.  Just  kiss  all  the  cobble- 
stones for  me,  won't  you  ?  Yes,  I  will  even  send 
my  blessing  to  that  treacherous  one  that  cost  me 
so  much  patience  and  a  doctor's  bill !  I  ought 
to  have  sent  tbe  bill  to  the  town  to  settle,  father 
said,  but  we  contributed  it  to  the  '  Committee,' 
hoping  thev  would  find  a  wav  to  be  more  sen- 

1          o  f  ^ 

crous  in  repairs  on  highways.  But  kiss  them 
all,  Beulah,  —  the  cobble-stones,  not  the  Com- 
mittee. I  mean." 

u  Come,  come,"  said  Beulah  ;  "  we  must  pack 
faster  and  not  talk  so  much ;  so  that  we  may  be 
ready  for  the  invitation  which  reads, '  The  Misses 
Bagley.  At  home,  from  four  till  six.' " 

"  Think  of  it,  —  an  afternoon  tea  at  Bagley 
Hall !  "  said  Daisy.  "  Come,  you  little  unknown 
blessing  ! "  and  she  shook  out  the  folds  of  the 
pretty  'dress  that  had  never  as  yet  fulfilled  its 
mission.  "How  much  pleasanter,  Beulah,"  she 
continued,  "  an  afternoon  tea  will  be  than  dis- 
cussing the  possible  virtues  of  Bacon  and  Shake- 
speare on  such  a  hot  day  as  this  !  Who  cares 
244 


Bagley  Hall. 

who  wrote  which,  so  long  as  Romeo  and  Juliet 
still  sit  on  the  balcony,  and  he  tries  to  decide 
whether  she  wears  a  Trefousse  or  a  Foster  lac- 
ing !  —  and  she,  meanwhile,  is  choosing  between 
a  homceopathic  pellet  or  an  allopathic  dose  ? 
Who  cares  ?  I  don't,  that  is  certain." 

"  Oh,  and  how  glad  I  am  that  we  have  not  to 
hear  about  that  model  boy  Casabianca  on  the 
burning  ship  (only  now  they  pretend  to  say  he 
never  did  it !)  and  be  all  harrowed  up,  and  go 
with  Mark  Antony  to  Caesar's  funeral.  No,  I 
thank  you,  Miss  Daisy  Wilder,  if  you  please, 
prefers  a  five  o'clock  tea  to  any  of  those  horrors. 
Come,  Caesar  and  Mark  Antony  !  Peace  to  your 
ashes,  Caesar !  Good-bye  ! "  said  Daisy,  as  she 
hid  her  Shakespeare  in  the  bottom  of  her  trunk. 

From  this  it  will  be  seen  that  Daisy  has  not 
as  yet  acquired  a  reverence  for  her  books,  even 
though  her  interest  in  them  may  have  been 
somewhat  awakened. 

"  And  as  for  you,"  continued  Daisy,  in  merry 
humor,  as  she  opened  her  portfolio  of  sketches, 
"  you  will  not  tell  any  secrets,  will  you  ?  No, 
you  will  keep  all  my  struggles  with  you  strictly 
confidential." 

Then  turning,  she  addressed  herself  again  to 
245 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

Beulah,  opening  as  she  did  so,  to  the  life  study 
of  a  horse,  which  had  cost  her  hours  of  practice, 
and  discouragement.  "  Now  look  at  him,  and 
tell  me  what  you  think,  Beulah,  of  my  chances 
at  being1  '  skyed '  at  the  next  Salon.  See  him,  — 
what  a  noble  animal  ! 

'  A  horse  !  a  horse  !  my  kingdom  for  a  horse ! ' 

Tell  me,  Beulah,  does  he  look  of  the  family  of 
Rosa  Bonheur's  stock  farm,  or  of  Nancy  Hanks 
or  —  the  '  Condemned '  ?  " 

A  merry  laugh  followed  Daisy's  estimate  of 
her  artistic  talents ;  and  as  she  buried  deep  in 
her  trunk,  beside  her  Shakespeare,  the  portfolio, 
she  said  with  a  forced  sigh,  "  Ah,  me  !  I  shall 
never  be  a  Greek  scholar  ;  I  shall  never  be  a 
mathematician  ;  and  out  of  the  mouth  of  that 
very  horse  speaks  the  verdict  that  I  shall  never 
be  an  artist !  Oh,  dear !  what  am  I  destined  for, 
I  wonder  ? " 

"  You  are  destined  to  be  a  true  friend  to  those 
who  deserve  your  friendship,"  said  Beulah,  "  and 
that  is  a  virtue  not  given  to  many.  But  what 
is  that  book,  Daisy  ?"  asked  Beulah,  as  she 
pointed  to  a  book  which  was  lying  upon  the 
floor. 

246 


Bagley  Hall. 

"  Oh,  that,"  said  Daisy,  "  is  my  diary,  of 
which,  with  the  cook's  kind  permission,  I  am 
going  to  make  a  bonfire,  with  all  my  old  letters 
for  kindling." 

"  What !  "  ejaculated  Beulah,  in  astonishment, 
"  you  are  not  going  to  burn  up  your  best  friend, 
as  you  used  to  call  it,  Daisy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Daisy,  "  but  that  was 
before  I  knew  a  better  to  confide  in ; "  and 
Daisy's  loving  glance  reached  the  tender  heart 
of  that  "  better  friend  "  by  her  side. 

"  But  why  do  you  burn  it  up  ? "  persistently 
asked  Beulah,  who  had  learned  to  regard  the 
little  book  as  sacred  to  Memory's  Past. 

"  Oh,  there  are  reasons  for  my  burning  it, 
Beulah,  that  I  do  not  care  to  tell.  Cannot  you 
trust  me,  Beulah  ? "  said  Daisy. 

"Trust  you!"  replied  Beulah,  with  animation. 
"  Who  cannot  trust  Daisy  Wilder  does  not  know 
the  full  meaning  of  that  little  word,  '  trust.' 
But  I  know  why  you  are  going  to  destroy  your 
diary.  Oh,  you  need  not  fear  to  let  it  tell  its 
tales.  I  know  that  1  deserved  every  word  of 
condemnation  it  speaks.  Oh,  no,  I  never  read 
them,  Daisy,  —  believe  me,  I  never  read  them  ! 
for  somehow,  despite  everything,  I  was  never 
247 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

brave  enough  to  talk  with  such  a  truthful  friend, 
and  I  always  respected  its  rights  of  secrecy." 

No  persuasive  powers  could,  however,  deter 
Daisy  from  her  resolution  to  "  cremate  her  old 
friend,"  as  she  termed  the  destruction  of  the 
little  book. 

"  JBeulah  dear,  I  must/'  she  said,  "  in  justice 
to  you  and  myself;"  and  later,  Daisy's  confi- 
dential friend  lay,  a  handful  of  ashes,  upon  the 
smouldering  bonfire  below  stairs. 

"  Who  is  invited,  Daisy,  to  the  five  o'clock  ?" 
asked  Beulah,  as  the  two  girls  surveyed  their 
labors  of  the  day. 

"  First,  you  and  I,  Beulah,"  replied  Daisy,  and 
she  commenced  to  count  upon  her  fingers,  as 
she  enumerated  the  guests.  "  Excuse  me,  Beu- 
lah; but  I  just  mention  the  most  important  ones, 
first,  because,  you  see,  without  us  the  tea  can- 
not go  on,  for  we  are  to  pour  it,  you  know  ! 
Then,  next  in  importance  come  the  pupils  in 
general  of  Bagley  Hall ;  for  if  there  were  not 
any  pupils,  there  would  not  be  any  class  day  ; 
and  if  there  were  not  any  class  day,  there  would 
not  be  any  afternoon  tea.  That  is  an  axiom  not 
to  be  disputed  by  any  one,  present,  or  to  be  pres- 
ent, I  fancy.  Then,  next  invited,  are  all  the  old 
248 


Bagley  Hall. 

families  about  Hillside,  —  contemporaries  of  the 
Misses  Bagley.  Does  that  sound  exciting  to 
you  ?  But —  and  here  marks  the  progress  of  eti- 
quette, and  the  football  team  —  next  invited  are 
the  members  of  that  same  football  team,  who 
came  up  yesterday  for  a  scrimmage  (what  else 
can  you  call  it  ?)  on  Simpkins'  Field.  Yes,  they 
are  all  coming,  —  all  that  are  left  of  them,  at 
least !  Signed,  sealed,  and  approved  by  Deacon 
Simpkins,  whose  guests  they  have  been  over 
night." 

"  But  how  do  Miss  Abigail  or  Miss  Lucindy 
know  these  young  students  ? "  asked  Beulah. 

"  Oh,  but  they  do  not  know  them !  "  said  Daisy  ; 
"  but  in  these  days  that  is  only  a  trifle.  Some- 
body comes  to  town.  Somebody  knows  that 
Somebody  has  come  to  town  ;  and  Somebody  else 
says  to  Mr.  Somebody,  who  has  come  to  town, 
'  Come  and  visit  me,  Mr.  Somebody,  on  such  a 
day.'  And  Mr.  Somebody  goes,  as  invited  by 
Mr.  Somebody ;  and  there  you  have  it !  although 
sometimes  Mr.  Somebody  may  be  —  only  a  Mr. 
Nobody  ! 

"  But  there  !  I  really  ought  not  to  do  such  in- 
justice to  Miss  Abigail  or  Miss  Lucindy  Bagley, 
for  it  really  does  happen  that  they  know  the 
249 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

parents  of  some  of  the  college  boys  ;  and,  anyway, 
of  course  they  are  all  well  connected.  Query  :  I 
wonder  if  it  is  with  a  fourteen  or  a  twenty  carat 
gold  chain.  It  makes  quite  a  difference  in  these 
days.  But  think  of  it.  Beulah,  —  boys  in  Bagley 
Hall!  What  shall  we  do  with  them?"  asked 
Daisy. 

"  Why,  entertain  them,  of  course,  I  suppose," 
said  Beulah,  as  if  resigned  to  the  inevitable. 
"  But  how  did  it  happen,  Daisy,"  she  asked, 
"  that  the  Misses  Bagley  dared  to  bring  such 
tinder  as  college  boys  to  Bagley  Hall  ?  " 

"Not  as  sparks,  you  may  be  sure,  Beulah," 
and  the  two  girls  laughed  heartily  at  Daisy's 
well-timed  joke.  "  Miss  Abigail  told  Mary 
Bumstead  that  she  thought  it  a  part  of  a  girl's 
education  to  be  able  to  converse  understandingly 
and  gracefully  ;  and  that  she  felt  it  to  be  an 
ordained  law  that  boys  and  girls  should  often 
meet  on  the  common  ground  of  friendship ;  and 
I  agree  with  her !  "  said  Daisy,  with  a  laugh. 

"  You  do  not  think,  surely,  that  Bagley  Hall 
is  in  danger  of  becoming  a  mixed  school,  do 
you  ?"  asked  Beulah. 

"  Can't  tell,"  said  Daisy.      "  There  is    great 
room  for  improvement,  —  yes,  even    at  Bagley 
250 


Bagley  Hall. 

Hall.  But,  come  closer,  Beulah,  and  let  me 
whisper  in  your  ear  something  a  little  bird  told 
me  the  other  day  ; "  and  as  Beulah  leaned  to 
listen,  Daisy  assumed  a  very  knowing  look,  but 
whispered  a  part  only  of  what  the  "  little  bird  " 
had  told  her,  and  closed  her  confidence  with, 
"  you  just  wait  and  see,  Beulah  !  " 

"  And  if  you  prove  a  true  prophet,  Daisy," 
said  Beulah,  "  I  suppose  that  you  will  be  as 
ready  with  your,  '  I  told  you  so  ! " 

"  Oh,  you  may  be  sure  I  will ;  and  that  time 
is  not  far  off,  either,  although  it  has  been  long, 
long,  on  the  way,"  said  Daisy.  "  But,  come,  we 
must  be  dressed  soon  to  take  our  places  at  the 
tea-urn,  and  to  entertain  those  boys,  you  know." 

"  I  know  no  more  how  to  entertain  and  talk 
with  those  '  boys,'  as  you  call  them  (young  gen- 
tlemen, I  suppose  they  call  themselves),  Daisy, 
than  I  know  how  to  read  Sanscrit,"  said  Beulah. 

"  Well,"  replied  her  companion,  "  you  are  a 
good  Greek  scholar,  and  Greek  is  not  far  off 
from  Sanscrit,  —  to  me,  anyway;  and  as  for 
entertainment,  why,  all  you  need  to  talk  about 
is  the  football  game,  and  ask  how  many  they 
left  dead  on  the  field ;  or  if  the  ambulance  corps 
had  enough  court-plaster  and  bandages  to  supply 
251 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

the  demand  ?  You  see,"  continued  Daisy,  "  the 
true  secret  of  conversation  is  to  choose  imder- 
standingiy  a  topic  adapted  not  only  to  the 
brains  of  your  hearers,  but,  as  well,  one  that 
will  appeal  to  their  hearts.  Don't  talk  over 
their  heads,  and  don't  talk  beyond  their  hearts. 
For  instance,  Beulah,  you  might  talk  with  me 
all  day  about  acute  or  obtuse  angles,  and 
apply  the  rule  to  my  style  of  walking.  I 
should  still  turn  my  toes  in,  just  as  I  have 
always  done,  simply  because  neither  my  mind 
—  nor  feet !  —  were  on  those  angles.  But  how 
line  you  do  look  ! "  said  Daisy,  as  she  surveyed 
Beulah,  dressed  for  the  coming  five  o'clock. 

And  a  pretty  sight  it  was,  later,  to  look 
through  the  rooms  of  Bagley  Hall,  all  aglow 
with  lights  and  flowers  and  the  freshness  of 
youthful  beauty  and  innocence.  At  two  prettily 
decorated  tea-tables  sat  Daisy  Wilder  and  Beu- 
lah Scilley,  the  former  adding  a  grace  to  the 
pink  silk  dress,  and  the  latter  in  a  white  muslin, 
whose  simplicity  was  well  suited  to  the  latter's 
girlish  face.  If  Beulah  Scilley  manifested  a 
little  of  her  old-time  reserve,  it  was  only  because 
she  had  not  as  yet  gained  the  full  ease  of  man- 
ner she  was  by  degrees  acquiring. 
252 


Bagley  Hall. 

And  the  college  boys !  Although  an  element 
before  unknown  in  a  Bagley  Hall  education, 
they  proved  the  wisdom  of  Miss  Abigail's 
words,  "  that  boys  and  girls  should  meet  oftencr 
upon  the  common  ground  of  friendship." 

Yes,  Miss  Abigail  had  become  more  generous 
of  late  in  her  ideas,  evidently.  Perhaps  it  was 
that  she  had  but  just  learned  that  the  other 
sex  was  not  one  of  grim  ogres,  as  she  had  been 
led  to  think  ;  and  perhaps  the  little  God  of 
Love  was  responsible  for  Miss  Abigail's  change 
(and  exchange  !)  of  heart,  for  although  Cupid 
wore  upon  his  head  Deacon  Simpkins'  iridescent 
wig,  he  had  made  with  his  bow  and  arrow  a 
true  shot  into  the  target  of  Miss  Abigail's  heart 
—  at  last!  And  at  the  public  announcement 
of  the  latter's  complete  surrender  of  Bagley 
Hall,  with  all  its  "  rights  and  privileges," 
to  her  sister,  Miss  Luciridy,  Daisy  Wilder 
leaned  towards  Beulah  Scilley,  and  repeated 
her  prophetic  words,  "  I  told  you  so ! "  and 
Deacon  Simpkins'  and  Miss  Abigail  Bagley's 
close  attention  to  each  other  was  a  positive 
proof  of  what  "  the  little  bird  "  had  brought  to 
Daisy's  ear. 


253 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

So  closed  the  year  at  Bagley  Hall.  Has  it 
been  all  in  vain,  even  though  Greek  and  mathe- 
matics have  not  found  ready  pupils  ?  Has  it 
been  all  in  vain,  this  year  of  a  greater  knowledge 
of  human  nature  ?  Who  better  to  answer  the 
question  than  Miss  Lucindy  herself,  who,  as  she 
clasps  Daisy's  hand  in  parting  adieus,  says  fer- 
vently, "  Good-bye,  Miss  Wilder.  You  have 
helped  me  more  than  you,  perhaps,  are  aware, 
and  more  — much  more  —  than  I  can  ever  tell 
you  !  We  are  never  too  old  to  learn,  and  never 
too  young  to  teach  ;  for  '  out  of  the  mouths  of 
babes  '  has  before  now  come  wisdom." 

And  Daisy  and  Beulah  said  their  good-byes 
to  Bagley  Hall,  and  bore  each  other  company 
on  their  journey  homeward  as  far  as  Boston, 
where  the  latter  was  to  spend  the  night  with 
the  former,  then  to  continue  her  journey  the 
following  day  to  her  own  —  home! 

Home  !  how  different  the  meaning  conveyed 
to  the  two  girls  in  that  one  little  word !  To 
Daisy,  it  was  the  very  essence  of  all  the  fra- 
grance of  life.  To  Beulah,  it  was  a  revelation 
to  be,  rather  than  a  joy  of  the  present. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  as  the  train  went  on  its  way, 
"  I  am  truly  grateful,  Daisy,  for  the  care  which 
251 


Bagley  Hall. 

auntie  has  given  me  for  so  many  years.  Do 
not  misunderstand  me,  but  I  cannot  help  feeling 
a  loneliness  of  late ;  a  loneliness,  I  suppose, 
that  has  come  with  others'  happiness,  when  I 
have  seen  all  the  girls  looking  forward  to  join- 
ing their  parents,  — a  loneliness  of  heart,  Daisy, 
that  you  cannot  understand,  for  you  have  father 
and  mother  waiting  for  you  ;  and  I,  —  well,  you 
know  all  I  would  say." 

Well,  full  well  Daisy  knew  how  lonely,  indeed, 

must  be  the  life  of  her  young  friend  by  her  side, 

-  without  a  father's  love,  without  mother,  and, 

in  short,  without   a   home   in  its  most  sacred 

meaning. 

"  Beulah,"  said  Daisy,  in  parting  at  the 
train,  the  next  day,  "  you  will  go  to  see  Rose- 
mary before  many  days,  will  you  not,  and  take 
her  a  trunk  full  of  messages  ?  But  I  have 
a  favor  to  ask  of  you.  Please  do  not  refer 
to  —  that  —  unhappy  —  time.  All  that  Rose- 
mary knows,  is  that  in  some  way  I  was  in 
disgrace,  and  that  in  some  other  way  justice 
was  done  me  ;  but  how,  or  by  whom,  or  indeed 
what  the  disgrace  was,  she  has  never  known  ; 
and  I  do  not  wish  her  to  know.  Promise 
me,  Beulah,  and  give  me  your  hand  in  con- 
255 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 

fidence,  and  good-bye,  and  your  lips  to  seal  our 
contract." 

Such  was  the  final  parting  between  the  two 
friends,  and  each  resumed  their  old  life  in  their 
separate  homes.  Nor  was  it  long  before  Beu- 
lah  executed  Daisy's  commission,  and  conveyed 
to  Rosemary  McBurnie  the  former's  trunkful 
of  messages.  She  found  the  latter  busy  over 
her  flower-garden  ;  and  as  Rosemary's  delicate 
hands  bent  towards  her  a  white  rose  to  scent  its 
fragrance,  Beulah,  as  she  watched,  could  not 
refrain  from  the  thought,  "  Like  a  white  rose 
she  lives  for  others'  good.  Will  she  fade  like 
the  flowers,  1  wonder  ?  " 

It  was  after  one  of  these  frequent  visits  to 
the  McBurnies'  cottage  that  Beulah  Scilley  was 
returning  to  her  aunt's.  She  walked  along  in 
pleasant  reverie,  for  the  time  was  nearing  for 
Daisy's  coming  to  her  summer  home;  and 
to  Beulah  it  meant  a  ray  of  sunshine  in  her 
life  of  shadow.  She  neared  her  home,  and 
was  about  to  open  the  garden  gate,  when  she 
thought  she  heard  her  name  called.  She  lin- 
gered, with  her  hands  on  the  iron  latch,  turned, 
but  saw  no  one.  Again,  she  fancied  she  heard 
the  voice,  calling  this  time  in  a  hoarse  whis- 
256 


Bagley  Hall. 

per,  but  in  a  whisper  that   still   attracted   her 
attention. 

"  Who  called  me  ?  Was  it  you,  Miss  Phoebe  ? " 
she  asked,  as  she  saw  Phoebe  Valentine  on  her 
steps  across  the  way. 

"  No,  not  I,  Beulah  ;  but  I  thought,  too,  that  I 
heard  some  one  speak  your  name,"  said  Phoebe. 

"  It  was  auntie,  probably,"  said  Beulah,  as 
she  closed  the  gate  behind  her  and  entered  the 
house,  —  to  find  no  one  at  home  !  and  BO  her 
question  remained  unanswered,  "  Who  called 
me  ? " 

In  her  dreams  that  night,  Beulah  saw  strange 
faces,  and  awoke  with  a  start,  at  the  sound  of 
her  name  repeated  in  a  whisper,  as  before, 
"  Beulah  ! " 

"  It  was  only  a  dream,"  she  said,  as  she  laid 
her  head  upon  her  pillow  again,  — "  only  a 
dream,  an  ugly  nightmare,"  she  repeated. 

But  dreams  are  ofttimes  the  awakening  of 
our  senses;  and  God  grant  that  Beulah's 
dream  may  lead  her  out  of  her  nightmare  of 
loneliness ! 

At  his  window  lattice  across  the  way,  the 
"  Stranger  "  still  sat  in  his  weakness  ;  and  what 
of  his  dream  ?  Will  there  ever  come  to  him  an 

•    17  257 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

awakening  of  his  senses,  —  those  senses  now  so 
dulled  and  feeble  ?  Ever  vigilant,  Nurse  Dob- 
son  still  watches  over  the  shipwrecked  sailor, 
looking  always  for  the  one  chance  of  hope  held 
out  by  the  doctor.  Of  late,  the  Stranger  has 
seemed  beyond  the  fulfilment  of  that  hope.  Is 
it  that  "  the  darkest  hour  is  just  before  the 
dawning"?  God  grant  it  may  be  so! 

It  was  a  surprise  to  good  Xurse  Dobson  to 
find  one  day  the  big  chair  in  which  the 
"  Stranger "  had  been  accustomed  to  spend  his 
long,  weary  days  moved  across  the  room.  Xo 
more  could  he  be  prevailed  upon  to  look  over 
the  water,  but  insisted  on  peering  through  the 
lattice,  that  shut  him  out  from  the  street,  but 
which  could  not  shut  from  him  the  street,  with 
its  pretty  cottages. 

"  You  are  getting  smart,  Stranger,"  said 
Xurse  Dobson,  when  she  first  discovered  the 
change.  "  Changed  your  bearings  ?  Pray,  how- 
did  you  get  that  great  chair  moored  over  there  ? 
Was  it  done  while  I  was  down  to  breakfast  ? 
Oh,  ho !  "  she  said,  "  '  When  the  cat  is  away  the 
mice  will  play,'  no  matter  how  old  they  are. 
But,  tell  me,  how  could  you  move  it  with  your 
strength  ?  You  must  be  getting  stronger." 
258 


Bagley  Hall. 

The  Stranger  intimated  that  his  feet  had 
helped,  as  well  as  his  feeble  hands,  in  the  ac- 
complishment of  what  looked  to  good  Nurse 
Dobsou  a  herculean  feat. 

"  And  so  you  have  tired  of  the  harbor,  have 
you  ? "  asked  she.  "  You  will  never  find  a 
prettier  one  this  side  of  the  heavenly  harbor  of 
rest,  and  it  is  so  much  cooler  that  side  of  the 
room." 

But  no  persuasion  could  change  the  sick 
man's  choice,  and  to  argue  with  him  would  only 
be  to  excite  him ;  so  there  he  sat,  watching,  — 
ever  watching,  —  ever  peering  through  the  lat- 
tice. Watching  for  what  ?  The  dawn  of  return- 
ing Memory ;  the  key  of  Love  that  would  unlock 
the  closed  door  of  his  Past,  all  ready  and  wait- 
ing for  a  hand  to  liberate  him. 

Beulah  had  been  confined  to  the  house  by 
days  of  indisposition  ever  since  that  one  which 
followed  her  night  of  dreams.  "  Auntie,"  she 
said,  "  I  think  I  will  go  over  and  make  a  call 
upon  Mrs.  Valentine,  if  you  can  spare  me. 
Down  here  there  is  a  code  of  etiquette  unknown 
anywhere  else.  It  has  neither  rhyme  nor  reason 
in  it,  and  really  plays  havoc  with  the  regulations 
of  good  society  elsewhere.  You  must  call,  rather 
259 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

than  be  called  upon,  when  you  come  to  town.  I 
would  not  encourage  it,  even  to-day,  if  I  could 
go  anywhere  else,  but  I  need  a  change  sadly,  and 
you  will  appreciate  me  more  if  I  leave  you  for  a 
while  ;  so  I  will  run  over  and  tell  Mrs.  Valentine 
and  Phoebe  —  that  I  came  to  town  a  month 
ago !  Good-bye." 

As  Beulah  left  the  house,  her  aunt  was  obliged 
to  acknowledge  the  loneliness  the  girl  left  behind 
her,  and  Mrs.  Barney  soliloquized,  "  Somehow, 
Beulah  is  different  to  what  she  was  before  she 
went  away.  Another  year  at  boarding-school, 
and  she  won't  have  her  equal  on  this  island.  If 
Richard  Scilley  could  only  see  her  now  !  How 
glad  I  am  she  does  not  favor  him  in  looks !  No, 
she  is  her  mother's  very  self  over  again,  for  she 
is  growing  to  look  every  day  more  and  more  like 
poor  Susan  J.  She  really  is  getting  to  be  quite 
a  handsome  young  lady." 

Thus  did  Mrs.  Barney  soliloquize,  as  she 
watched  with  pride  her  niece,  Beulah  Scitley, 
cross  the  street  to  the  home  of  the  Valentines. 

"  So  glad  to  see  you,  Beulah,"  said  Phrebe 
Valentine,  as  she  answered  the  knock  at  the 
door. 

"  We  just  needed  you  to  cheer  us  up.  Come 
260 


Bagley  Hall. 

in  and  chat,  and  then  sing  to  us,  will  you? 
Mother  was  saying  only  yesterday  that  she  did 
wish  she  could  hear  you  sing  again." 

Of  course  there  was  much  to  talk  about,  — 
school  and  its  interests,  the  long  winter,  that 
had  brought  the  shipwreck  to  the  island,  Daisy's 
coming,  and  the  summer  pleasures  in  antici- 
pation. 

"  And  now  please  sing  us  a  song  or  two,  won't 
you,  Beulah  ?"  asked  Phrebe  Valentine.  "You 
will  have  quite  an  audience  to-day,  gallery  and 
orchestra  chairs  full ;  for  Nurse  Dobson  says 
that  Stranger  upstairs  has  been  asking  for  music 
for  some  days." 

"  Is  he  crazy  ?  "  asked  Beulah,  with  a  fear 
expressed  in  her  pretty  face,  which  emphasized 
the  terror  in  the  tone  of  her  voice. 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  said  Mrs.  Valentine.  "  He  is 
only  a  poor  feeble  man,  and  his  memory  has 
failed  him ;  but  the  doctor  says  he  will  come 
out  all  right  yet,  and  that  he  already  sees  a 
marked  improvement  in  him  the  past  week. 
He  is  a  very  patient  man.  Come,  sing  to  him, 
and  to  us  all." 

"  What  shall  it  be  ? "   asked  Beulah,  as  she 
seated  herself  at  the  piano. 
261 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

"  Oh,  anything,  Beulah,"  replied  her  hostess. 
"  I  always  liked  that  '  Lullaby  Song ; '  it  seemed 
so  well  suited  to  your  voice." 

Running  her  fingers  carelessly  over  the  piano 
keys,  as  if  to  recall  the  music,  Beulah  sang 
in  a  voice  sweet  and  low  the  song  called 
for  :  — 

"  Sleep  and  rest,  sleep  and  rest ; 

Father  will  come  to  thee  soon. 
Rest,  rest,  on  mother's  breast ; 

Father  will  come  to  thee  soon. 
Father  will  come  to  his  babe  in  the  nest ; 
Silver  sails  all  out  of  the  West, 

Under  the  silver  moon." 

For  Beulah,  the  words  had  an  association.' 
she  knew  not  of;  and  yet,  as  she  sang  them, 
they  appealed  to  her  as  never  before,  and  her 
voice  manifested  her  emotion.  She  was  too 
young  to  remember  her  mother's  voice,  as  once 
it  lulled  her  baby  off  to  sleep,  singing  the  same 
sweet  words :  — 

"  Father  will  come  to  his  babe  in  the  nest ; 
Silver  sails  all  out  of  the  West, 
Under  the  silver  moon." 

But,  alas !  "  Father "  never  came  to  the  young 

wife  and  mother,  waiting  and  watching  in  her 

262 


Bagley  Hall. 

lonely  home  for  the  absent  lover,  and  the  "  sil- 
ver moon "  hid  itself  behind  the  clouds,  and 
hope  died  out  with  the  mother's  life. 

The  hush  that  followed  Beulah's  singing  was 
a  silent  appreciation  of  it,  and  was  broken  by 
a  feeble  attempt  at  applause  from  above  stairs, 
by  the  Stranger,  who  had  listened  intently  to 
the  song. 

Soon  Nurse  Dobson  appeared  in  the  doorway 
to  say  that  the  Stranger  insisted  upon  seeing 
the  youthful  singer.  "  Would  she  please  come 
up?" 

"  I  never  have  seen  him  so  interested  before 
in  anything !  "  said  the  old  nurse,  —  "  never  since 
I  have  had  the  care  of  him.  You  should  have 
seen  him  when  you  were  singing.  Why,  I 
almost  thought  that  he  joined  in  the  chorus, 
and  he  sat  so  thoughtful  like,  too." 

Of  what  was  the  "  Stranger "  thinking  as 
he  listened  ?  Of  that  other  "  voice  singing  in 
Paradise  "  ? 

Beulah  needed  no  urging  to  visit  the  Stranger 
in  his  room.  "  He  may  be  some  one's  father," 
she  said  to  herself  ;  and,  like  the  Widow  Valen- 
tine's, her  tender  heart  prompted  the  words, 
"  I  will  do  as  I  would  another  might  have  done 
263 


Twixt  You  and  M'e. 

for  —  him  !  "  and  she  followed  Nurse  Dobson 
up  the  stairs,  Mrs.  Valentine  and  Phoebe  close 
behind. 

Daring  his  long  illness,  the  Stranger  had 
never  before  asked  to  see  any  caller  at  the 
Valentine  house ;  yet  this  young  girl  had  sung 
her  way  into  the  sick  man's  heart.  The  charms 
of  music  were  too  well  known  to  dispute  their 
power  ;  and  every  member  of  that  family  wel- 
comed the  hour  that  had  awakened  such  an 
interest  in  their  patient.  But  —  was  it  the 
music  ?  Might  it  not  be  the  singer  ? 

"  Come  in,  my  child,"  said  the  "  Stranger  "  to 
Beulah,  as  she  stood  waiting  upon  the  threshold 
of  his  room.  "  Come  in,  and  sing  it  again  to 
me.  I  had  a  babe  in  the  nest  once,  —  a  long, 
long  time  ago.  I  dreamed  of  her  the  other 
night,  as  I  slept  in  my  chair  by  that  window." 
And  the  Stranger  pointed  towards  the  harbor 
view.  "  But  she  could  n't  walk  over  the  water, 
if  she  should  come  ;  so  now  I  am  watching  for 
her  to  come  this  other  way,  and  perhaps  she 
will  some  day  come  to  her  poor  father."  The 
hope  expressed  in  the  man's  tone  was  as  pathetic 
as  his  words.  "I  can  wait  —  I  can  wait  —  a 
little  longer,"  said  he. 

264 


Bagley  Hall. 

Beulah  sat,  as  requested,  on  a  low  footstool  at 
the  Stranger's  feet,  and  sang  again :  — 

"  Father  will  come  to  his  babe  in  the  nest ; 
Silver  sails  all  out  of  the  West, 
Under  the  silver  moon." 

She  sang  without  any  accompaniment,  but  none 
was  needed  in  such  an  audience-room.  It  would 
have  detracted  from  the  words  and  the  inspira- 
tion of  such  an  hour. 

Low  at  the  Stranger's  feet,  the  singer  sat. 
With  each  word  that  she  uttered,  she  seemed  to 
pour  out  her  very  soul,  and  the  Stranger's  heart 
beat  responsive  to  the  song.  He  looked  into 
Beulah's  young  face,  as  if  he  would  trace  in  it  a 
likeness  to  some  one  whom  he  had  once  known. 

"Thank  you  so  much,"  he  said  to  Beulah, 
when  the  song  was  finished. 

"  Yes,  we  all  thank  Beulah,"  said  Phoebe  Val- 
entine, speaking  the  gratitude  of  the  company. 

As  she  spoke  the  singer's  name,  the  Stranger 
turned  quickly,  waited  a  moment,  then  said 
slowly,  "  What  —  name  —  did  —  you  —  say  ?  " 

"  Beulah.  This  is  Miss  Beulah  Scilley,"  re- 
plied Phcebe. 

"  Wait  —  wait,"  said  the  Stranger,  raising  his 
hand  to  his  head  and  brushing  away  the  hair 
265 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

from  his  forehead,  as  if  he  would  clear  the  con- 
fusion from  his  weary  brain.  Then  he  repeated 
in  measured  accents, "  Beu-lah  Scil-ley.  Beu-lah 
Scil-ley—  " 

The  man's  whole  frame  trembled  with  emo- 
tion as  he  repeated  for  the  second  time  the 
words,  —  the  name  so  dear  to  him !  Then,  lean- 
ing over  to  Beulah,  who  still  sat  at  his  feet,  the 
Stranger  placed  his  hand  tenderly  upon  her 
head  and  smoothed  her  glossy  hair. 

Again  he  looked  into  Beulah's  eyes !  Again 
he  took  between  his  feeble  hands  the  young  face 
before  him  !  Then,  leaning  nearer  to  her,  he  put 
his  face  closer  to  the  rosy  cheeks  of  the  girl,  and 
sobbed,  "  My  child!  my  child  !  Yes  —  yes  — 
'  Father  will  come  to  thee  soon.'  " 

and  the  Stranger's  tears  fell  as  a  benediction 
upon  Beulah's  young  life  and  an  outlet  for  his 
own  long  pent-up  memory. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  kept  repeating  again  and 
again  :  — 

"  '  Father  will  come  to  thee  soon.' 

Your  father  is  here,  Beulah.  Look  up.  Look 
up,  my  child." 

The  sudden  emotion  long  waited  for  had  come, 
266 


Bagley  Hall. 

too !  No  voice  but  the  happy  father's  broke  the 
silence,  although  others'  tears  fell  in  mingled 
gratitude  for  that  hour,  —  the  hour  that  held  so 
much  of  promise  in  its  keeping. 

For  the  time  the  Stranger  seemed  simple  as  a 
child.  Now,  he  stroked  again  and  again  the 
girl's  head,  that  lay  in  his  lap.  Anon,  he  lifted 
her  hands,  —  those  hands  that  had  never  since 
babyhood  known  a  father's  loving  clasp,  —  pat- 
ting them  continually  with  nervous  endearment. 
Then,  as  his  tears  fell  and  glistened  in  Beulah's 
pretty  hair,  he  would  sing  in  his  feeble  way, 
which  sounded  much  like  a  happy  mother  croon- 
ing to  the  infant  in  her  arms  :  — 

"  '  Father  will  come  to  thee  soon. 
Sleep  and  rest,  sleep  and  rest.' 

My  child!  my  child!" 

In  the  man's  eyes  already  shone  the  new  light 
of  returning  memory  ;  on  the  way,  —  but  not  as 
yet  fully  come  to  its  promised  fulfilment. 

And  Beulah  ?  It  had  all  come  to  her  as  by 
heavenly  intuition.  Her  father  was  bending 
over  her.  That  was  happiness  enough  for  the 
present.  No  more  for  her  the  loneliness  of  the 
past !  She  could  wait  with  him,  as  she  now 
267 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

waited,  to  reciprocate  the  love  thus  poured  out 
to  her.  For  the  present  all  was  expressed  in 
those  words  so  new  to  her,  "  My  father !  " 

And  the  setting  sun  went  down  over  the 
waters.  The  twilight  shadows  drew  about  them 
its  veil,  and  the  little  harbor  became  to  the  two 
a  harbor  of  heavenly  rest  and  peace,  in  truth  ; 
and  the  sails  of  the  white  fleet  of  fishing-boats 
rounding  the  Point,  one  by  one,  shone  in  the 
light  of  the  "  silver  moon "  like  the  "  silver 
sails  "  of  the  song.  And  "  Father  "  still  sat  in 
close  communion  with  his  new-found  fledgling, 
while  the  music  of  the  waves  sung  a  lullaby  to 
them  both :  — 

"  Sleep  and  rest,  sleep  and  rest." 

Such  was  the  coming  of  Richard  Scilley  to 
Beulah,  his  "  babe  in  the  nest ; "  and  with  that 
return  came  happiness  to  him  and  to  all  who 
had  watched  so  tenderly  over  him,  because  the 
closed  gate  of  restoration  to  health  was  already 
open  upon  its  hinges,  and  soon  the  physician's 
prophecy  would  be  fulfilled.  To  Beulah,  a  new- 
life  had  dawned,  and  she  joined  the  watchers, 
waiting  ;  but  —  had  she  not  waited  for  this  hour 
since  earliest  childhood  ? 
268 


Bagley  Hall. 

It  was  Beulah's  aunt  alone  who  could  not 
accept  the  coming  of  Richard  Scilley  in  the  true 
spirit  of  gratitude  and  "  all  for  the  best."  It 
was  difficult  for  her  to  think  of  him  as  any- 
thing but  the  "  good-for-naught "  she  thought 
him  once  ;  and  would  he  not  in  time  take  from 
her  the  companionship  of  the  gentle  girl  whom 
she  had  but  just  come  to  love  and  know,  whose 
heart,  though  late,  she  had  at  last  found  ? 

"  I  could  forgive  Richard  Scilley  for  coming 
to  life  again  !  but  he  is  a  '  man  born  to  (make) 
trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  upward,' "  said  Mrs. 
Barney,  when  she  learned  the  identity  of  the 
Stranger. 

So,  naturally,  it  was  to  Daisy  Wilder  and 
Rosemary  McBurnie  that  Beulah  turned  for 
loving  sympathy ;  and  it  was  not  long  before 
she  went  the  way  her  heart  led.  The  next  day 
after  her  new-found  joy  had  come  to  her,  she 
called  at  the  McBurnies'  cottage  on  the  beach,  to 
ask  them  to  share  in  her  happiness.  Rosemary 
sat  on  the  piazza,  looking  out  over  the  water,  as 
if  in  expectation.  Beulah  came  near.  Her  face 
was  aglow  with  the  happiness  at  her  heart  and 
the  joyous  news  she  had  in  anticipation  to  tell. 

"  Good-afternoon,  Beulah,"  said  Rosemary,  as 
269 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

the  latter  drew  near.  "  I  am  waiting  for  my 
ship  to  coine  in,  you  see,  for  each  day  of  late  I 
have  been  expecting  Daisy  ;  but  you  look  as  if 
your  ship  had  already  come  in.  You  look  very 
happy  this  afternoon,  Beulah." 

"  Good-afternoon,  Rosemary.  Do  I  look  happy  ? 
If  I  do,  it  is  because  I  am  so  very,  very  happy, 
for  my  ship  has  come  in,"  said  Beulah. 

"  Did  it  come  around  the  Point,  or  by  the  way 
of  the  South  Shore  ? "  asked  Rosemary,  gayly. 
"  It  must  have  come  at  the  South  Side,  for  I 
have  watched  the  Point  almost  all  day,  —  almost 
all  the  week,  in  fact." 

"  Yes,"  said  Beulah,  as  Rosemary's  jest  re- 
called the  shipwreck  of  the  winter,  that  had 
brought  her  father  to  the  island ;  "  my  ship 
came  by  the  way  of  the  South  Shore,  as  you  say, 
and  it  had  a  very  stormy  passage,  too !  " 

"  And,"  interrupted  Rosemary,  "  did  it  bring 
you  all  the  riches  you  expected,  Beulah  ? " 

"  Yes,  all,  and  more  too !  "  said  Beulah,  in 
reply.  "  It  brought  me  the  most  precious  gem 
I  own;  it  brought — me  —  my  —  father,  Rose- 
mary ! "  and  Beulah  told  the  story  of  her  happi- 
ness, to  which  Rosemary  listened  eagerly  and 
gave  her  loving  congratulations. 
270 


Bagley  Hall. 

first  I  would  wait  until  Daisy  came,  and  tell  you 
both  together,"  said  Beulah,  as  she  closed  her 
story ;  "  but  I  could  not,  Rosemary.  I  had  to 
come  to  you  to-day.  It  was  too  good  a  story  to 
keep  from  you  longer.  When  is  Daisy  coming, 
—  soon  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,  although  I  have  been  look- 
ing for  her  ever  since  she  sent  me  her  last 
message,  —  a  dear  little 

"ANEMONE." 


271 


Twixt  You  and  Me. 


Anemone. 

Expectation. 


One  joy  there  is  all  joys  above, 

One  joy  that  all  may  own  ; 
E'en  disappointment  cannot  mar 

The  joy  in  —  Expectation  ! 

O'er  weary  days  it  cast  its  light; 

Through  darkest  night  it  shone  ; 
Nor  storm,  nor  tempest-cloud,  can  dim 

The  joy  in  —  Expectation ! 

Faith  is  the  motto  of  its  choice, 

Till  life  itself  be  done  ; 
And  Hope  the  radiance  that  gilds 
The  joy  in  —  Expectation  ! 

0  weary  ones,  who  sit  within 

The  shadows,  one  by  one  ; 
Look  up  !  and  learn  that  greatest  joy,  — 

The  joy  in  —  Expectation ! 

Grace  Le  Baron. 


To  the  Mm; 


Poppy  jSfeep 


A3 


IX. 

TO   THE   MUSIC    OF   THE   WAVES. 

POPPY.      SLEEP. 

ND  the  little  anemone,  that  brought  the 
message  of  her  anticipated  coming  from 
Daisy,  brought,  as  well,  with  the  breath  of  the 
little  windflower,  a  like  share  of  expected  joys 
to  Rosemary  McBurnie.  She  had,  as  she  told 
Bculah  Scilley,  sat  a  constant  watcher  all  day, 
although  she  knew  that  but  two  boats,  in  any 
event,  could  bring  to  her  the  friend  whom  she 
most  wished  to  see,  and  but  one  of  them  would 
be  her  "  ship  to  come  in." 

The  dip  of  the  oars  of  the  little  rowboats  in 
the  harbor  was  music  to  her  ears.  The  flapping 
of  the  sails  of  the  white  fleet  beyond  in  the 
waters  brought  to  her  happy  recollections.  In 
the  breezes  that  fanned  her  pale  cheeks  Rose- 
mary hoped  for  new  strength.  Thus  she  sat,  as 
she  had  for  many  days,  nursing  the  hope  that 
the  summer  would  bring  to  her  the  anticipated 
/  275 


'Twixt  You  and   Me. 

happiness  and  health  in  the  sweet  companionship 
of  Daisy  Wilder. 

She  had  waited  (oh,  so  patiently! )  through  the 
long  winter  months  for  this  hour,  for  the  "  ship  " 
that  should  bring  to  her  the  rosy  cheeks  of 
health,  with  that  regret  at  her  heart  —  that 
regret  common  to  so  many  — :  that  her  ambition 
and  strength  were  so  ill  attuned  ;  for  she  had 
sacrificed  much  of  the  latter  in  her  ambitious 
desire  to  graduate  with  honors  from  her  school. 
But  of  what  avail  were  honors  now,  with  her 
tell-tale  face  speaking,  as  words  never  can,  of 
the  sacrifice  of  youthful  strength  ?  Still  she 
hoped,  and  watched,  and  expected,  and  the  boat 
rounded  the  Point,  and  its  whistle  seemed  to 
speak  its  special  message :  for  the  messenger  to 
come  to  her  was  Daisy  Wilder,  —  a  messenger 
of  love. 

The  latter  had  Keen  up  and  dressed  with  the 
sun,  although  the  noon  hour  was  the  time  set  for 
the  departure  of  the  family  ;  but  Daisy,  though 
a  young  lady  of  "  sweet  sixteen,"  that  age  which 
poetic  natnres  love  to  associate  with  all  that  is 
sweet  in  life,  was  still  only  a  little  child  in 
many  things.  With  her  distaste  for  books  — 
the  "  works  of  man,"  as  she  termed  them,  came 
276 


To  the  Music  of  the  Waves. 

that  stronger  love,  as  before  said,  for  those 
others  of  God's  supreme  handiwork ;  and  her 
attested  love  for  flowers  and  for  the  roar  of  the 
ocean  was  divided  with  her  affection  for  her 
quartette  of  pets.  She  had  given  orders  that  she 
might  be  called  early  ;  "  for,"  said  she  to  her 
maid  Charlotte,  "  I  must  attend  to  my  stock 
farm,  —  my  zoo  !  before  we  go." 

So  Dick,  the  canary,  who  was  proverbial  for 
always  singing  at  the  wrong  time,  was  given  his 
breakfast  of  tiny  cereals.  Dandy,  the  Boston 
terrier,  accepted  his  morning  meal  with  the  cus- 
tomary bow  of  thanks,  and  sharpened  his 
incisors  on  the  toothsome  bones  of  past  riches. 
Tom,  the  house  cat,  satisfied  himself  with  his 
saucer  of  bread  and  milk,  since  to  dissect  Dick, 
the  canary,  seemed  quite  out  of  the  question. 
And  Polly  !  well,  Polly's  "  cracker "  was  like 
her  voice,  an  every-day  affair,  although  the 
former  relish  seemed  inadequate  to  satisfy 
Polly's  appetite,  judging  from  her  ever-constant 
cry  of  "  Polly  wants  a  cracker."  She  varied 
it,  however,  with  another,  when,  borne  by  the 
cook's  deft  and  steady  hand,  her  cage  was 
taken  aboard  the  train.  And  Polly's  new  cry 
of  "  Going  away  !  Glad  of  it  I  "  although  but 
277 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

the  chattering  of  a  poll  parrot,  echoed  the  senti- 
ments of  the  whole  family. 

And  Daisy  and  her  zoo  were  on  the  way. 

Happy  prospects  came  to  all  the  family,  in 
the  pleasant  thoughts  of  another  anchoring  in 
the  little  harbor  of  rest,  and  the  fancied  greet- 
ing that  awaited  them  at  their  island  home. 

o 

And  fair  gales  led  them  there,  as  the  boat  which 
rewarded  Rosemary's  waiting  eyes  rounded  the 
Point. 

And  so  the  summer  life,  ever  old,  but  ever 
new,  was  resumed  ;  and  the  summer  friend- 
ship, strengthened  by  Beulah  Scilley's  love, 
became  "  a  threefold  cord."  Will  it  be  easily 
broken  ? 

To  Daisy,  the  news  of  the  latter's  happiness 
came  as  a  surprise,  but  as  a  joy  as  well;  for 
Beulah's  loneliness  of  heart  and  life  had  often 
appealed  to  Daisy,  who  could  no  more  "  live 
without  love,"  she  always  affirmed,  than  she 
could  "  live  without  bread  and  butter ! " 

"  And  so  he  was  not  as  much  of  a  stranger, 
after  all,  as  his  name  would  indicate,"  said 
Daisy,  after  she  had  heard  Beulah's  romantic 
story.  "  It  only  goes  to  prove  just  what  I  told 
Cousin  Harold  a  year  ago :  it  is  a  senseless 
273 


To  the  Music  of  the  Waves. 

name,  without  any  meaning  down  here,  where 
everybody  has  a  claim !  Shall  you  go  back  to 
Bagley  Hall  ?  "  asked  Daisy. 

"  I  fear  not,  Daisy,"  replied  Beulah.  "  Father 
will  need  me.  What  do  you  hear  from  the 
Misses  Bagley,  Daisy  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  suppose  you  received  a  piece  of  Miss  Abi- 
gail's wedding  cake,"  said  Daisy.  "  I  did  too ; 
and  I  had  a  most  terrible  nightmare  all  night. 
I  was  foolish  enough  to  put  it  under  my  pillow  ; 
I  do  not  really  know  what  for.  '  They  '  told  me 
to,  and  so  I  did  as  '  they  '  said,  of  course.  Girls 
always  have  a  foolish  age,  just  as  Captain 
Hussey  told  us  last  summer.  It  was  good  cake, 
though,  for  I  ate  a  piece  ;  and  I  think  perhaps 
that  was  the  real  cause  of  my  nightmare. 
Evidently  Miss  Lucindy  has  a  new  cook ;  for 
old  Bridget's  cake  never  could  do  any  one 
any  harm,  unless  in  repentance  for  having 
ventured  to  explore  its  mysteries  ; "  and  Daisy 
laughed.  Unfortunate  words  of  reminder  they 
proved  to  Beulah,  and  to  Rosemary. 

"  Oh,  tell  me,  Daisy,"  said  Rosemary,  —  "  tell 

me  all  about  that  time  last  winter,  marked  in 

my  memory  by  that  faded  spray  of  marjoram. 

Tell  me  about  it,  please,  now,  that  it  is  all  in 

279 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

the  past,  and  you  came  out  with  such  flying 
colors,  as  I  have  since  heard." 

Daisy  looked  at  Beulah,  as  if  she  were  saying 
in  rebuke,  "  You  have  broken  faith  with  me." 

Rosemary  interpreted  Daisy's  look,  and  said, 
to  disarm  the  latter's  suspicion,  "  Beulah  will 
not  tell  me  a  word  about  it.  She  says  that 
she  cannot,  because  she  is  under  bonds  to 
you,  Daisy.  Come,  either  break  those  bonds  or 
tell  me  the  story  yourself,  for  I  want  to  hear 
it,  and  judge  for  myself  if  justice  was  done 
you." 

It  was  an  embarrassing  moment  to  both  Daisy 
and  Beulah.  To  Daisy,  because  of  her  one 
desire  to  protect  her  friend,  Beulah  Scilley. 
To  Beulah,  because  of  her  one  desire  to  break 
her  promise  to  Daisy,  —  a  desire  that  had  been 
hers  ever  since  she  gave  that  promise  ;  a  desire 
to  take  Rosemary  into  confidence,  and  tell  of 
Daisy  Wilder's  many  kindnesses  to  one  who  felt 
herself  unworthy  of  them. 

"  May  I  tell  Rosemary  ?  "  said  Beulah.  "  Do 
say  tha't  I  may,  Daisy,"  she  urged. 

And  after  much  urging  Beulah  gained  Daisy's 
permission  to  tell  the  story  of  her  own  humilia- 
tion, although  Daisy's  restrictions  were  upon  her 
280 


To  the  Music  of  the  Waves. 

with  the  injunction,  whispered  in  Beulah's  ear, 
"  Remember,  we  travel  incognito." 

"  And  what  name  shall  I  give  to  —  the  other 
girl?"  asked  Beulah.  about  to  commence  her 
story. 

"  Oh,"  replied  Daisy,  "  call  her  '  Pupil  Number 
Eleven.'  She  ought  to  be  proud  of  that  name  ! " 

Pupil  Number  Eleven  !  How  much  that  re- 
called to  the  two  girls  !l  There  had  been  a  time 
when  the  name  was  not  an  honor  to  be  proud  of, 
but  a  disgrace  to  be  forgotten,  as  it  had  already 
been  forgiven.  So  with  the  mention  of  the 
name  of  "  Pupil  Number  Eleven  "  came  a  whole 
tide  of  memories,  —  memories  of  Bagley  Hall, 
—  where  discord  once  reigned,  but  where  happi- 
ness conquered  at  last. 

Beulah  commenced  her  story,  with  Daisy  Wil- 
der as  a  watchful  monitor  over  her  words,  and 
Rosemary  McBurnie  as  an  interested  critic. 

"  You  see,"  said  Beulah,  as  she  went  on  with 
the  story,  "  everybody  loved  Daisy  ;  and  Pupil 
Number  Eleven  never  knew  what  it  was  to  be 
loved  by  any  one." 

"  Poor  girl  !  "  interrupted  Rosemary,  and 
Beulah  could  only  repeat,  "  Poor  girl !  " 

"  Oh,  but  she  brought  the  whole  School  to  her 
281 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

feet  before  the  year  closed."  said  Daisy ;  "  and 
it  was  worth  all  the  unhappiness  I  suffered  to 
know  that  girl  as  I  do  no\v  ! " 

And  Beulah  continued  her  story,  often  recall- 
ing herself  from  the  danger  of  breaking  her 
bond  of  secrecy,  and  betraying  the  identity  of 
li  Pupil  Number  Eleven."  As  she  told  of  that 
night  of  tears  she  said,  "  Those  tears  meant 
much  to  that  poor  girl,  for  she  was  never  before 
known  to  cry.'' 

"  Yes ;  but  those  tears  became  tears  of  joy 
later,"  said  Daisy,  trying  to  throw  over  the  past 
a  glamour  to  palliate  its  sad  memories. 

In  minute  detail,  Beulah  told  the  story  which 
even  Rosemary's  naturally  forgiving  nature 
found  difficult  to  tolerate  in  full. 

"Did  she  have  any  shame  in  her  at  all?" 
asked  Rosemary,  as  Beulah  told  that  part  of  the 
story  where  Daisy  was  brought  before  her  jury. 

"  Just  wait  and  sec,"  replied  Daisy,  who  was 
really  looking  forward  for  the  peace  of  mind  that 
would  come  to  her  with  the  close  of  the  story. 

Still  again,  Rosemary  questioned,  "  But  where 
did  the  girl  get  Daisy's  lace  handkerchief  ?" 

"  Why,  Daisy  herself  loaned  it ! "  quickly 
replied  Beulah. 

282 


To  the  Music  of  the  Waves. 

"  And  never  told  ? "  asked  Rosemary. 

"  No.  Never  told  a  word,  because  —  because 
she  did  not  want  to  hurt  —  "  She  was  just  on 
the  point  of  using,  by  accident,  the  pronoun 
"  me,"  but  quickly  recovered  herself,  and  said, 
'•  Dear  kind-hearted  Daisy !  because  she  would 
not  —  so  she  told  Miss  Abigail  —  tarnish  an- 
other's name  by  suspicion." 

"  How  could  you  be  so  foolish,  Daisy  ?  "  said 
Rosemary,  whose  sympathies  were  more  and 
more  with  her  friend  with  every  detail  of  the 
story.  "  She  deserved  it  all,  Daisy." 

Instantly  Beulah,  with  an  emotion  in  her 
voice,  replied  to  Rosemary's  question,  "  Yes," 
said  she  ;  "  she  —  Pupil  Number  Eleven  —  de- 
served everything  that  came  to  her,  except  — 
except  —  the  love  of  her  schoolmates.  She  will 
never  be  worthy  of  that !  " 

"  I  say  that  she  was  deserving  of  every  friend 
that  she  made,"  replied  Daisy,  in  a  most  con- 
vincing manner, —  "  every  one,  Beulah  Scilley  !" 

"  But  how  could  you  be  so  forgiving  and 
brave,  Daisy  ? "  asked  Rosemary. 

"  Why,  because  you  told  me  to  be,"  replied 
Daisy. 

"  I  ? "  asked  Rosemary,  in  unfeigned  surprise, 
283  -X  • 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

—  "  I  ?     Why,  I  knew  nothing  about  all  this, 
Daisy." 

"  That  may  be ;  but  did  you  not  tell  me, 
Rosemary,  that  I  must  do  my  duty,  and  defy 
the  world  ?  And  was  it  my  duty  to  injure  the 
good  name  of  another  by  placing  it  perhaps  in 
a  wrong  light,  since  suspicion  does  not  always 
bring  its  proof  of  guilt  ?  Has  not  many  an 
innocent  person  suffered  because  bound  by  a 
chain  of  circumstances  that  were  against  him 
in  seeming;  and  how  was  I  to  know  wlio  really 
dropped  my  bit  of  finery  in  the  place  where  it 
was  found  ? " 

"  Quite  right,  my  friend  Daisy  ;  and,  looking 
at  it  in  sober  earnest,  it  was  better  that  you 
should  suffer,  while  you  had  the  consciousness  of 
having  done  your  duty  ;  for  nothing  could  —  as 
nothing  did  —  harm  you.  But  how  could  that  girl 

—  oh,  how  could  she>!  —  sit  there  and  hear  you, 
Daisy,  maintain  your  innocence,  and  be  dumb!" 

"  She  could  not !  She  could  not !  "  said  Beulah, 
with  vehemence.  "  She  suffered  and  suffered 
till  she  could  stand  it  no  longer !  I  know  just 
how  she  felt ! "  said  Beulah,  in  closing  her  story. 
And  did  not  Beulah  Scilley  know,  as  no  one  else, 
the  misery  and  contrition  of  that  hour  ? 
284 


To  the  Music  of  the  Waves. 

As  Beulah  finished  the  story,  Rosemary  said, 
turning  to  Daisy,  "  And  you  are  quite  sure  you 
forgave  her,  Daisy  "9" 

"  Quite  sure,  Rosemary  ;  as  sure  as  I  am 
tli at  I  love  her  to-day." 

"  And  you,  Rosemary,  what  would  you  have 
done  ? "  asked  Beulah. 

"  Oh,  I  should  have  tried  to  forgive  the  girl, 
just  as  Daisy  did." 

"  And  do  you  think  you  could  have  loved  her 
as  Daisy  does  ?  "  asked  Beulah. 

"  It  would  depend  much  upoji  the  girl  herself, 
I  suppose,"  said  Rosemary.  "  If  it  had  been 
Daisy  or  you,  why,  I  could  love  either  of  you 
under  any  circumstances." 

"  Could  you  ?  "  asked  Beulah,  almost  hesitat- 
ing with  fear,  at  a  possible  loss  of  Rosemary's 
gentle  friendship.  "  Under  any  circumstances, 
Rosemary  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  under  any  and  every  circumstance !  " 
replied  Rosemary,  with  loyalty  shining  out  from 
her  pitying  eyes.  "  But  who  was  Pupil  Number 
Eleven,  Daisy,"  asked  Rosemary,  not  quite  satis- 
fied with  half  of  the  story.  "  Let  ine  know, 
that  I  can  forgive  her,  as  you  did." 

Daisy  refused  to  divulge  the  name  over  which 
285 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

she  had  become  guardian  ;  but  Beulah  was  not 
to  be  restrained. 

"  I  can  keep  my  promise  no  longer,  Daisy  ! 
You  must  release  me !  "  said  Beulah,  in  an 
excited  manner.  Turning  to  Rosemary,  she  said, 
"  It  is  I,  Rosemary,  who  needs  your  forgiveness. 
Can  you  give  it  to  me  now  that  you  know  all  ?  " 

If  Rosemary  felt  surprise  at  the  denouement  of 
the  story,  she  was  wise  in  her  control ;  and  taking 
Beulah's  hand  in  her  own  frail  grasp,  she  kissed 
the  latter  with  affection,  saying,  "  There,  Beulah, 
let  that  be  my  seal  of  forgiveness  for  my  share 
in  Daisy's  sorrow,  and  love  for  you,  dear  friend. 
Forgive  me,  Beulah,  rather,  for  seeking  to  know 
what  was  not  intended  for  my  ears." 

"  Oh,  but  it  was,  Rosemary  !  I  could  not  be 
quite  happy  until  I  told  you ;  and  now  —  now 
what  more  have  I  to  ask  for,  with  your  forgive- 
ness and  all  my  other  blessings !  " 

"Friendship  that  cannot  stand  a  test  like 
that  without  faltering  is  unworthy  the  name," 
said  Rosemary. 

And  the  threefold  cord  became  stronger  than 
ever,  although  one  thread  was  in  the  frail  keep- 
ing of  Rosemary  McBurnie's  delicate  hand. 


280 


To  the  Music  of  the  Waves. 

And  the  summer  months  went  by,  —  June, 
with  its  coronation  of  roses,  July,  with  the 
reign  of  the  Dog-star  over  its  closing  days. 

And  again  August  returns  to  complete  the 
circle  of  the  twelvemonth  which  has  elapsed 
since  first  Rosemary  McBurnie  and  Daisy  Wilder 
spoke  to  each  other  in  the  language  of  the 
flowers,  with  the  bloom  of  the  blue  forget-me- 
not  and  the  simplicity  of  the  white  pansy  —  and 
the  red  poppy  still  nods  upon  its  stem. 

The  circle  of  friendship  is,  too,  well  rounded 
out  with  the  closing  days  of  summer,  for  with 
them,  Harold  Macy  has  returned  to  enjoy  his 
vacation  holidays  at  his  island  home,  and  to 
breathe  the  soothing  influence  of  the  hallowed 
atmosphere,  reconciled  now  to  any  lullaby  that 
old  Ocean  may  whisper  in  his  ears.  Beulah 
Scilley's  friendship  augments  the  happiness  of 
Rosemary  and  Daisy,  and  the  trio  has  become 
a  quartette,  although  one  ever-constant  voice 
of  discord  disturbs  the  harmony  of  song. 

The  peaceful  calm  of  Sunday  is  proverbial  in 
that  island  town. 

The  little  rowboats  are  beached. 

The  white  fleet  is  anchored  in  the  harbor; 

287 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

and  the  ocean,  even,  appears  subdued,  as  it  laps 
their  sides  with  a  musical  rhythm  that  seems  to 
say,  like  the  song,  — 

"  Sleep  and  rest,  sleep  and  rest." 

The  church  bells  ring  out  their  call,  and 
"islanders"  and  u  off-islanders  "  meet,  for  the 
one  day  of  the  week,  no  more  as  "  strangers," 
but  as  friends  under  the  one  roof-tree  of  the 
village  church. 

And  the  clouds  tell  of  the  going  down  of  the 
sun. 

Under  the  little  marquee,  which  has  been 
erected  on  the  beach  for  the  comfort  of  the 
invalid,  Rosemary  and  her  trusted  friends  sing, 
as  the  bells  ring  out  the  music  of  "  Jerusalem 
the  Golden." 

The  bells  cease,  and  the  song  ends. 

"  Sing  on,  all  of  you,"  said  Rosemary,  as  her 
voice  dropped  out  of  the  choir.  "  Sing  on,  and  I 
will  go  off  to  sleep.  Here,"  she  said,  as  she 
gave  to  each  a  flower,  "  obey  my  messenger, 
and  sing  me  to  sleep." 

And  the  trio  sang. 

Tbe  sun  sank  to  its  rest. 

The  watcher  in  the  belfry  cried,  "  All  's  well." 

Over  the  waters  came  the  echo  of  the  song. 
288 


To  the  Music  of  the  Waves. 

Slowly  sinks  the  sun  to  its  rest, 
Good-night,  good-night, 
As  a  bird  in  its  downy  nest, 

Good-night,  good-night, 
Closes  its  weary  eyes, 
Slowly  the  daylight  dies 

In  the  West. 
Good-night,  good-night. 

And  Rosemary  slept.  The  sweet  music  soothed 
the  sleeper  off  to  Dreamland. 

The  gentle  breezes  brought  to  her  healing  in 
their  wings,  and  blissful  sleep. 

For  such  was  the  message  of 

THE  POPPY. 


19  289 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 


Poppy. 

Sleep. 


Rock-a-bye, 

Lu/l-a-bye,  Ifush-a-bye. 
For  so  runs  the  song  that  the  poppy  sings, 

And  the  little  lady  sleeps. 

The  angel.t  spread  >n'</e  their  sheltering  icings; 
And  the  breath  of  Henren  siceet  healing  brings, 
The  while  God  his  vigil  keeps. 
A  nd  the  little  lady  sleeps. 
For  so  runs  the  song  that  the  poppy  sings, 
Jiock-a-bye, 

Lull-a-byc., 

Hush-a-bye. 

Grace  Le  Baron. 


290 


CONCLUSION. 

SWEET   MEMORIES. 

White  lilies  in  her  hand  she  bore, 
So  beautiful !  —  ne'er  seen  before. 

Ah  me,  so  fair  !  so  bright  1 
As  if,  unto  their  own  sweet  grace, 
Her  purity  had  lent  its  trace, 

To  make  them  spotless  white. 

IT  is  a  day  in  the  golden  month  of  September. 
One  of  those  days  in  which  Summer  seems 
to  make  an  heroic  effort  to  assert  herself  once 
again  before  she  must  surrender  to  the  harvest 
moon.  The  white  caps  on  the  water  have  spent 
themselves  for  a  while,  and  the  ocean  is  as 
placid  as  a  millpond,  ever  and  anon  coquetting 
with  the  sun's  rays,  that  dance  over  it  in  pleasant 
frolic.  The  brisk  northwest  winds  that  have 
reigned  for  the  past  few  days  are  subdued,  and 
an  atmosphere  prevails  which  has  in  it  the 
balminess  of  a  midsummer  day. 

A    general    holiday  air   pervades   the    scene 
about  the  cottages  on  the  beach.     Still  smiles 
291 


Conclusion. 

the  garden-boat  in  all  its  brilliancy  of  salvia  and 
marigold,  but  within  the  hospitable  home  of  the 
McBurnies  the  perfume  of  the  lily  speaks  its 
more  fitting  message  of  the  day.  Out  from  the 
windows  come  the  mingled  voices  of  song,  and 
above  all  is  the  song  of  the  hour,  —  the  song 
of  thanksgiving.  The  written  messages  which 
have  heralded  this  hour  have  been  commented 
upon  by  their  recipients  as  having  some  hidden 
meaning,  and  impatient  curiosity  has  kept  the 
islanders  on  the  qui  vive  for  many  days. 

The  invitation  which  bore  the  signature  of 
Mrs.  Cornelia  McBurnie  simply  read,  "  Come 
and  '  rejoice  with  those  who  rejoice,'  on  Satur- 
day afternoon  next."  Simple  words  they  were, 
but  were  they  not  the  outburst  of  more  than 
one  grateful  heart  ? 

As  Beulah  read  hers,  she  said,  "  Father,  I 
shall  hope  for  a  good  day  for  you  on  Saturday 
next,  so  that  I  may  be  spared  from  your  side  to 
join  in  the  congratulations  to  Rosemary  on  her 
coming  birthday."  And  when  the  day  came, 
Beulah  went  her  way,  and  was  among  the  first 
arrivals  at  the  McBurnies'  cottage. 

Rosemary,  standing  in  the  open  hallway, 
where  the  golden  sunlight  shone  through  the 
292 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

window  upon  her,  looked  more  than  ever  as  if 
"  belonging  to  cloudland  where  the  angels  live." 
The  folds  of  her  simple  white  muslin  dress 
enveloped  her,  and  the  lilies  in  her  hands 
seemed  a  most  fitting  symbol  of  her  life. 

For  like  the  perfume  of  the  lilies  has  been 
the  fragrant  influence  of  that  life. 

We  have  seen  its  evidence  in  the  happy, 
merry-hearted  girl,  Daisy  Wilder. 

It  has  spoken  its  helpful  message  in  the  life 
of  Beulah  Scilley. 

Even  in  the  far-away  home  of  the  Bagleys  at 
Hillside  has  its  fragrance  bloomed  in  the  perfec- 
tion of  harmony  of  thought  and  deed. 

Yes,  even  the  invalid,  Richard  Scilley,  has 
felt  its  benefit  and  its  cheer,  awakening  in  him, 
with  that  love  for  his  "  bird  in  the  nest,"  a 
strong  desire  to  prove  his  sincerity  by  noble 
purpose,  when  life  shall  open  anew  to  him. 

It  is  a  happy  hour  for  the  assembled  company, 
who  have,  like  Beulah,  come  to  respond  to  the 
invitation  "  to  rejoice  with  those  who  rejoice  ;  " 
for  not  only  does  the  day  signalize  another 
birthday  for  Rosemary,  but,  as  well,  her  prom- 
ised return  to  health.  Her  convalescence  has 
been  so  slow  during  the  summer  months  that  it 
293 


Conclusion. 

is  not  until  now  that  faint  hearts  have  become 
strong  in  their  faith  in  her  ultimate  recovery, 
and  the  ne\v  year  for  her  augurs  one  of  promise. 

Beulah  Scilley  leads  the  thanksgiving  song, 
and  the  full  chorus  take  up  the  refrain,  "  Re- 
joice !  Rejoice  !  " 

The  song  is  finished ;  but  its  sentiment  is 
everywhere  apparent. 

Beulah  leads  the  way  to  the  hall  once  again, 
to  satisfy  herself,  by  another  word  with  Rose- 
mary, before  she  returns  to  her  father's  side. 
An  envelope  is  thrust  into  Beulah's  outstretched 
hands,  just  as  she  is  bidding  her  friend  "  good- 
bye," with  the  request  that  she  read  its  con- 
tents aloud.  Her  hands  tremble  as  she  breaks 
the  seal ;  and  in  surprise  she  scans  the  contents 
of  the  document  enclosed.  She  makes  an  at- 
tempt to  read  aloud,  —  but  it  is  only  an  attempt. 
The  words  are  long,  but  their  meaning  is  plain 
to  the  reader.  She  stammers,  —  falters,  —  and 
reads  no  more  ! 

Daisy  Wilder  is  quickly  by  Beulah's  side,  and 
helps  her  bravely  over  the  embarrassment  of 
the  hour.  Legal  words  and  phrases  do  not 
appall  Daisy  in  the  least.  Technical  terms  do 
not  deter  her,  and  the  assembled  company  are 
294 


'Twixt  You  and  Me. 

witnesses  to  the  fact  that  the  cottage  on  the 
beach,  "  owned  by  Mrs.  Cornelia  McBurnie,  is 
deeded  as  a  thank-offering  to  Miss  Beulah 
Scilley." 

Applause  at  such  a  time  seems  almost  an 
intrusion,  and  Mrs.  McBurnie  breaks  the  embar- 
rassing silence,  saying,  "  Take  it,  Beulah,  and 
all  its  belongings,  and  be  to  your  father  as 
devoted  a  daughter  as  Rosemary  has  ever  been 
to  me." 

And  Rosemary  adds,  in  her  own  inimitable 
way,  "  Will  you  let  me  be  your  tenant  for  a 
month  longer,  Beulah  ?  " 

So  closes  the  day  of  thanksgiving,  with  a 
message  and  a  memory  - 

'Twixt  You  and  Me. 


And  still  another  year  finds  a  new  mistress 
presiding  over  the  cottage  on  the  beach ;  and 
Phoebe  Valentine,  as  she  sees  her  foster-daugh- 
ter, Beulah  Scilley.  leave  for  Bagley  Hall  once 
again,  with  her  chosen  companions,  Rosemary 
McBurnie  and  Daisy  Wilder  by  her  side,  bids 
them  all  "  God  speed,"  and  watches  the  boat 
round  the  Point ;  while  the  sailboats  in  the  har- 
295 


Conclusion. 

bor  give  a  chorus  of  salutes  to  the  outgoing 
steamer,  in  which  the  gem  of  the  white  fleet 
leads,  as  she  follows  in  the  steamer's  wake. 

Her  white  sails  are  filled  to  catch  the  breeze  ! 
Her  pennant  flies  from  her  masthead !  Her 
bow  cuts  the  water !  and  at  her  stern  is  the 
significant  lettering,  "  My  Valentine."  At  her 
helm  sits  her  happy  skipper,  Richard  Scilley, 
with  one  hand  grasping  the  tiller  and  the  other 
holding  to  his  lips  a  large  conch-shell,  —  the 
signal-horn  of  his  little  craft,  from  whose  melo- 
dious depths  he  sends  his  parting  salute  to  his 
daughter  Beulah  and  her  trusted  friends,  to 
which  other  hearts  respond  as  lips  repeat, — 

'Twixt  You  and  Me. 


THE  END. 


296 


NEW  BOOKS 

FOR  BOYS  AND  FOR  GIRLS 


WANOLASSET 

THE-LITTLE-OXE-WIIO-LAUGHS 

BY  MISS  A.  G.    PLYMPTON 
Author  of  " Dear  Daughter  Dorothy"  etc. 


\2>no.    Cloth.     With  illustrations  by  the  author.    $1.25 

A  story  of  colonial  life  in  New  England  during  King  Philip's  War, 
and  of  the  captivity  of  a  little  Medfield  maid,  to  whom,  on  account  of  her 
brave  spirit  and  sunny  temper,  the  Indians  gave  the  name  of  "  Wanolasset  " 
—  meaning  "  The-little-one-who-laughs.'1  Much  historical  information  is 
cleverly  interwoven  with  the  story,  which  is  one  of  absorbing  interest.  The 
author  has  invested  her  youthful  characters  with  much  of  that  same  sweet- 
ness which  characterizes  "  Dear  Daughter  Dorothy,"  the  heroine  of  one  of 
her  earlier  books,  and  their  varying  fortunes  will  be  eagerly  followed.  — 
New  England  Magazine. 

I 


NAN  IN  THE  CITY 

OR,  XAN'S  WINTER  WITH  THE  GIRLS 
A  sequel  to  "  Nun  at  Camp  Chicopee  " 

BY  MYRA  SAWYER  HAMLIN 


\6>fio.     Cloth.     Illustrated  by  L.  J.  Bridgman. 


.25 


All  the  girls  will  like  Xan,  and  so  will  the  boys,  for  she  is  altogether 
a  charming  creature.  And  what  is  quite  as  important  to  the  mothers  and 
fathers,  it  will  do  their  children  good  to  become  acquainted  with  her. — 
Bookseller,  Newsdealer,  and  Stationer. 

She  is  a  womanly  girl,  and  we  have  met  her  like  outside  of  story  books. 
A  wonderfully  healthy,  thoroughly  womanly  maiden,  standing  at  the  point 
in  her  life  where  childhood  and  womanhood  meet,  one  follows  with  interest 
the  account  of  her  first  winter  at  school  in  a  great  city,  where  she  made 
new  friends  and  found  some  old  ones.  — Boston  Advertiser. 


BELLE 


A  New  Book  by  the  author  of  "  Miss  Toosey's  Mission" 


i6mo.     Cloth.     I Iht  sir  cited.     $1.00 
4 


THE 

LITTLE  RED  SCHOOLHOUSE 

BY  EVELYN   RAYMOND 

Author  of"  The  Little  Lady  of  the  Horse"  "Among 
the  Lindens"  etc. 


I2mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated  by  Victor  A.  Searles.     $1.50 

As  the  title  indicates,  the  country  school  is  the  feature  of  the  book 
which  has  suggested  much  of  its  plot,  and  the  author  has  woven  a  delight- 
ful narrative,  sensible  and  practical,  and  at  the  same  time  interesting  and 
uplifting,  which  will  be  welcomed  by  the  young  people.  —  Congrega- 
tionalist. 


AMONG  THE  LINDENS 

BY  EVELYN  RAYMOND 

Author  of.  "  The  Little  Lady  of  the  Horse"  "  A  Cafie  May 

Diamflit-/."  "  The  Mushroom  Cave"  "  The 

LittU  Red  Schoolkonse"  etc. 


\2.mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated  by  Victor  A.  Searles.     $1.50 

The  scene  of  Evelyn  Raymond's  new  story  is  partly  in  New  York  and 
partly  in  the  country  "  among  the  lindens."  A  poor  family  is  assisted  by 
a  wealthy  friend  in  the  best  possible  way,  — ^e  helps  them  to  help  them- 
selves. The  youngest  boy  is  the  life  of  the  story,  something  of  an  amus- 
ing and  exceedingly  lively  nature  happening  to  him  every  day  of  his  life. 
The  children  of  the  story  have  faults,  but  strive  to  correct  them,  and  have 
healthy  and  noble  ideals  of  life  and  character.  There  is  an  exceptionally 
pleasant,  homelike  atmosphere  about  the  book. 

6 


TEDDY,  HER   BOOK 

A    STORY    OF   SWEET    SIXTEEN 
BY  ANNA  CHAPIN  RAY 


A  very  bright  and  spirited  book  for  girls  and  boys.  Its  scenes  are  laid 
chiefly  in  a  New  England  town  and  at  Smith  College.  It  is  believed  that 
"  Teddy  "  (Theodora)  and  her  brothers  and  sisters  and  boy  friends  will  be 
favorites. 

\2wo.     Cloth.     Illustrated  by  Vesper  L.  George.     $1.50 
7 


TEN  LITTLE  COMEDIES 

TALES   OF    THE   TROUBLES   OF  TEN    LITTLE  GIRLS 
WHOSE   TEARS    WERE   TURNED   INTO   SMILES 


BY  GERTRUDE  SMITH 


\2rno.     Cloth.      With  ten  full-page  illustrations  by 
Ethelred  B.  Barry.     #1.25 

Naturalness  and  genuine  sympathy  for  children  give  Miss  Gertrude 
Smith's  stories  charm  of  character.  Few  students  of  child  nature  have 
come  closer  to  the  hearts  of  the  little  ones.  —Boston  Herald. 

Just  such  stories  as  children  love  and  ought  to  have.  —  Boston  Beacon. 

We  like  the  book  because  it  is  natural,  easy,  pleasing,  leaves  no  heart- 
burnings or  anxieties.  — Kansas  City  Journal. 


MISS  BELLADONNA 

A   CHILD   OF   TO-DAY 
BY  CAROLINE  TICKNOR 

Author  of  "A  Hypocritical  Romance,  and  Other  Stories." 


12 mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated  by  L.J.  Bridgman.     $1.50 

The  little  folk  owe  Miss  Ticknor  a  debt  for  giving  them  so  fresh  and 
charming  a  companion  as  "  Miss  Belladonna."  The  author  has  very 
cleverly  caught  the  child's  point  of  view,  and  the  book  is  written  with  a 
seemingly  unconscious  touch  of  humor  that  ought  to  win  it  many  readers. 
Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 

I  think  it  is  the  jolliest  book  I  have  seen  in  many  a  day.  Life  from 
the  child's  point  of  view  is  not  often  given.  I  don't  wonder  that  every  one 
likes  it.  The  author  is  in  luck  to  have  hit  upon  such  a  bright  and  original 
scheme  —Louise  Chandler  Monlton. 

Since  the  davs  of  Miss  Ferrier  and  Miss  Edgeworth,  fiction  lias  known 
no  spoiled  child  to  compare  with  Miss  Belladonna.  —  The  Times,  New 
York. 


Bright,  Lively,  and  Enjoyable 


Jolly  Good  Times'   Series 

By  Mary  P.  Wells  Smith 


JOLLY   GOOD   TIMES;    or,  CHILD  LIFE 

JOLLY   GOOD    TIMES   AT   SCHOOL; 
NOT  so  JOLLY. 

THE  BROWNS. 

THEIR  CANOE  TRIP. 

JOLLY  GOOD   TIMES  AT 
HACKMATACK. 

MORE   GOOD   TIMES  AT 
HACKMATACK. 

JOLLY  GOOD  TIMES  TO- 
DAY. 

A  JOLLY  GOOD  SUMMER. 

With  Illustrations,  square 
12 wo,  cloth,  gilt,  $1.25  per -vol- 
ume. The  set  of  eight  i  olumes. 
uniformly  bound  in  cloth,  gilt, 
in  a  box,  $10.00. 


ON    A 

also, 


FARM. 
SOME  TIMES 


Of  these  stories  the  Boston  "  Transcript "  says  :  "  Few  series  of  juve- 
nile books  appeal  more  strongly  to  children  than  the  'Jolly  Good  Times' 
Series,  written  by  Mary  P.  Wells  Smith.  The  naturalness  of  the  sto- 
ries, their  brightness,  their  truth  to  boy  and  girl  life  and  character,  and 
the  skill  with  which  the  author  manages  incident  and  dialogue,  have 
given  them  deserved  popularity." 

It  is  Mrs.  Smith's  happy  ability  to  take  the  incidents  of  child-life, — 
such  a  life  as  any  child  of  bright  mind  and  sweet  character,  blessed  with 
the  surroundings  of  a  good  home,  might  have,  —  and  to  record  them  with 
such  faithfulness  to  the  child's  character,  and  yet  with  such  charm  in  the 
narrative,  as  to  make  them  engagingly  interesting  to  other  children. — 
Gazette  and  Courier,  Greenfield,  Mass. 


JOLLY  GOOD  TIMES ;  or,  CHILD  LIFE  ON  A  FARM.  With 
Illustrations  by  Addie  Ledyard.  Square  i2mo.  $1.25. 

"Jolly  Good  Times  "  not  only  deserves  its  title,  but  the  further  praise 
of  being  pronounced  a  jolly  good  book.  The  Kendall  children  and  their 
neighbors  and  playmates  live  in  the  Connecticut  valley,  not  far  from 
Deerfield.  .  .  .  The  result  is  a  charming  local  picture,  quite  worth  the 
attention  of  English  boys  and  girls,  as  showing  what  New  England  life 
is  in  a  respectable  farmer's  family,  —  plain  folks  who  do  their  own  work, 
but  entirely  free  from  the  low-comic  variety  of  Yankee  talk  and  manners 
too  often  considered  essential  to  the  success  of  a  New  England  story. — 
The  Nation,  New  York. 

A  very  pretty  picture  of  the  life  of  country  children.  It  is  a  charming 
little  story,  too,  for  boys  and  girls  who  live  in  cities,  and  know  nothing 
about  what  fine  times  their  country  cousins  have.  The  country  children, 
too,  will  recognize  the  picture  as  their  own  on  many  a  page  of  the  book. 

—  St.  Louis  Republican. 

JOLLY  GOOD  TIMES  AT  SCHOOL;  also,  SOME  TIMES 
NOT  so  JOLLY.  With  Illustrations  by  Addie  Ledyard. 
Square  i2mo.  $1.25. 

"  P.  Thorne  "  is  a  pseudonym  pleasantly  associated  in  the  minds  of 
the  readers  of  the  "  Register  "  with  many  bright  and  earnest  contribu- 
tions to  its  columns.  "  Jolly  Good  Times  at  School"  is  a  sequel  to  her 
former  venture.  .  .  .  Pleasing  pictures  it  gives  us  of  the  school  and 
child  life  of  New  England  as  it  existed  twenty-five  years  ago,  and  as  it 
still  exists  in  the  more  secluded  and  rural  districts.  .  .  .  Interwoven  here 
and  there  in  the  narrative  are  charming  descriptions  of  the  natural 
beauties  and  characteristic  scenes  of  New  England,  —  the  "cold  snap," 
the  first  snow-storm,  the  exciting  "  coast  down  the  mountain,"  the  Indian 
stories.  —  Christian  Register,  Boston. 

It  is  a  thoroughly  New  England  book.  The  school  it  tells  of  is  a  New 
England  country  school ;  and  its  girls  and  boys  are  New  England  young- 
sters, full-blooded  Yankees.  It  is  a  healthy  book,  morally  and  every 
other  way,  as  well  as  a  piquant  and  interesting  one.  —  Detroit  Post. 

THE   BROWNS.     Illustrated.     Square  i2mo.     $1.25. 

The  "Jolly  Good  Times"  are  two  of  the  best  juveniles  in  American 
literature.  The  author  now  adds  a  third,  equally  fresh  and  delightful. — 
Boston  Transcript. 

There  is  a  fine,  fresh  flavor  of  country  life  in  what  she  writes,  —  the 
air  of  fields  and  woods,  the  light  of  brooks,  and  the  song  of  birds;  and 
her  characters,  particularly  her  children,  are  thoroughly  real  and  human. 

—  R.  H.  STODDARD,  in  A'ew  York  Mail  and  Express. 

For  naturalness,  jollity,  good  sense,  and  high  moral  tone,  not  many 
books  surpass  "  The  Browns,"  by  Mary  P.  W.  Smith. —  Congregationalist, 
Boston. 


THEIR  CANOE  TRIP.     Illustrated.    Square  i2mo.    $1.25. 

Mrs.  Mary  P.  W.  Smith  has  made  a  delightful  book  out  of  this  canoe 
trip,  taken  by  two  Boston  boys  on  six  New  England  rivers,  which  lead 
them  from  Francestown,  N.  H.,  down  to  their  home.  —  Pittsburgh  Bulletin. 

"  Their  Canoe  Trip "  is  a  charming  story,  and  the  most  interesting 
feature  is  that  it  is  really  true.  Two  Roxbury  boys  actually  made  the 
trip  in  1875,  and  the  book  is  dedicated  to  them.  They  have  had  a  suc- 
cessful trip,  and  have  learned  lessons  in  manliness,  endurance,  and  the 
power  of  overcoming  unforeseen  difficulties  which  will  last  as  long  as 
they  live.  Mrs.  Smith  makes  a  delightful  story  out  of  their  adventures 
by  the  way,  which  cannot  help  interesting  youthful  readers,  it  is  so  full  of 
incident,  so  natural  and  vivacious.  —  Providence  Journal. 

No  better  book  for  a  bright,  healthy  boy's  reading  has  been  published 
this  year. — Boston  Transcript. 

An  uncommonly  lively  and  agreeable  story.  —  New  York  Tribune. 

JOLLY   GOOD    TIMES  AT  HACKMATACK.     Illustrated. 

Square  121110.     $1.25. 

A  bit  of  real  literature.  It  is  a  story  of  the  child-life  of  New  England 
sixty  years  ago,  and  it  has  all  the  vividness  of  actual  experience.  There 
surely  is  no  small  reader,  boy  or  girl,  who  can  withstand  the  charm  of 
this  recital  of  the  country  fun  of  grandpa's  childhood,  and  no  grandpa 
who,  taking  a  surreptitious  peep  at  the  book,  will  put  it  down  until  he 
has  turned  the  last  leaf.  Every  Christmas  sees  a  swarm  of  new  books 
for  children,  not  many  of  which  deserve  to  live ;  but  this  little  volume 
ought  to  be  preserved  as  a  permanent  addition  to  the  chronicles  of  New 
England  life.  —  New  York  Tribune. 

A  capital  children's  story.  It  is  full  of  spirit  and  fun,  graphic  in  de- 
scription, sensible  and  improving  without  any  formality,  and,  in  a  word, 
just  what  young  people  enjoy,  and  what  wise  parents  give  them  to  enjoy. 
—  Congrtgationalist,  Boston. 

A  charming  picture  of  the  old  stage-coach  days  and  the  life  in  the 
staid  country  minister's  family.  The  boys  and  girls  who  read  this  inter- 
esting book  will  get  a  good  idea  of  the  simple  life  when  their  fathers  and 
mothers  were  young.  —  Christian  Register,  Boston. 

MORE   GOOD  TIMES   AT   HACKMATACK.     Illustrated. 

Square  i2tno.     $1.25. 

A  thoroughly  charming  and  enjoyable  book.  Spring  cleaning,  soap- 
making,  Fast  Day,  sugaring  in  the  woods,  making  hay,  and  other  rural 
sports  and  labors,  are  told  of  with  the  most  delicious  freshness  and  vivid- 
ness. To  children  of  a  larger  growth  this  book  will  be  a  perpetual 
reminder  of  their  own  far-off  youth  and  childhood.  —  NOAH  BROOKS, 
in  The  Book-Buyer. 

Readers  of  "  Jolly  Good  Times  at  Hackmatack  "  will  be  delighted  to 
continue  the  story  of  childhood  life  long  ago  in  that  delightful  hill  town 
of  western  Massachusetts.  —  Providence  Journal. 


"  Here  's  some  cup  cakes  I  baked  a  purpose  for  you." 

Front  "  MORE  GOOD  TIMES  AT  HACKMATACK." 


JOLLY   GOOD    TIMES    TO-DAY.      Illustrated   by   Jessie 
McDermott.     Square  12  mo.     $1.25. 

It  is  brimming  from  cover  to  cover  with  Healthy,  hearty  child's  com- 
panionship and  wholesomely  jolly  times.     It  is  the  story  of  children 
whose  lives  are  put  in  pleasant  places,  where  the  modern  possessions  of 
our  day  contribute  freely  to 
the  general  happiness;  where 
the  comradeship   of    elders 
gives  no  undue  sense  of  par- 


ental authority,  but,  rather, 
a  friendly  sharing  of  mutual 
guiding;  where  liberal  in- 
stincts and  thoughtful  liv- 
ing create  an  atmosphere  of 
growth  and  of  personal  privi- 
lege wherein  young  lives  may 
unconsciously  expand  to  a 
noble  future.  —  Unity. 

Allow  me  to  express,  un- 
asked, the  zest  and  satisfac- 
tion with  which  I  have  read 
your  new  children's  book, 
"Jolly  Good  Times;  or, 
Child  Life  on  a  Farm."  .  .  . 
I  am  delighted  that  while 
our  novelists  are  apt  to  ig- 
nore the  joyous  country  life 
of  New  England,  or  to  treat 
it  as  something  bare  and  bar- 
ren, it  should  still  be  painted 
in  its  true  colors  for  children. — From  a  letter  !>v  T.  W.  HIGGINSON. 

"  Jolly  Good  Times  "  not  only  deserves  its  title,  but  the  further  praise 
of  being  pronounced  a  jolly  good  book. — The  Nation. 

A  JOLLY   GOOD   SUMMER.      Illustrated.      Square  i2mo. 

$1.25. 

It  is  a  story  of  real  American  children  to-day,  bright,  cheerful,  and 
enthusiastic,  and  it  will  warm  little  hearts  and  strengthen  little  minds  in 
whatever  homes  on  this  broad  continent  it  is  read.  —  New  Orleans  States. 

This  story  goes  through  an  entire  school  vacation,  not  omitting  the 
Fourth  of  July,  the  long  and  exciting  journey  from  Cincinnati  to  Plym- 
outh, where  the  Strongs  spend  some  happy  weeks  of  outdoor  sport,  all 
told  in  a  lively,  merry  style  that  makes  good  reading.  Mrs.  Smith's 
children  are  real  little  girls  and  boys,  with  a  great  interest  in  their  plays 
and  each  other,  their  dogs  and  cats  and  chickens,  of  the  good  "old- 
fashioned  "  sort,  neither  precocious  nor  slangy.  —  Springfield  Republican. 


ITbe  J^OUIIQ  puritans  Series 

By  Mary  P.  Wells  Smith 

Author  of  "  The  Jolly  Good  Times  "  Series 


THE  YOUNG  PURITANS  OF  OLD  HADLEY. 

THE  YOUNG  PURITANS  IN  KING  PHILIP'S  WAR. 

\brno,  Cloth,  Illustrated,  each,  $1.25.      Two  volumes,  uniform, 

in  a  box',  $2.50. 
In  preparation:  "THE  YOUNG  PURITANS  IN  CAPTIVITY." 


Mrs.  Smith  deserves  very  hearty  commendation  for  the  admirable 
pictures  of  Puritan  life  which  are  drawn  with  a  skilful  hand  in  this  book. 
She  has  chosen  a  representative  Puiitan  village  as  the  scene,  and  the 
period  of  very  early  settlement  of  western  Massachusetts  for  her  story,  a 
village  which  retains  many  of  its  early  features  to  this  day.  Mrs.  Smith 
knows  the  people  of  whom  she  writes  thoroughly,  and  holds  them  in 
high  and  loving  esteem.  Even  the  most  prejudiced  reader  can  hardly 
close  this  book  without  seeing  in  these  genuine  Puritan  people  a  phase  of 
human  life  at  once  fine  in  its  courage,  its  endurance  of  terrible  hardships, 
and  not  unbeautiful  in  its  childlike  acceptance  of  God's  dealings  and  its 
daily  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness.—  The  Churchman. 

THE   YOUNG   PURITANS   OF    OLD    HADLEY.      i6mo. 
Cloth.     Illustrated.     $1.25. 

A  capital  colonial  story. —  Congregationalist,  Boston. 

She  catches  the  very  spirit  of  Puritan  life.  —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

The  work  has  historic  value  as  well  as  unique  interest.  —  LILIAN 
WHITING,  in  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

An  excellent  book  for  school  libraries.  —  Literary  AT/nvs,  New  York. 

The  adventures  of  the  boys  while  hunting,  the  trapping  of  wolves  and 
panthers,  which  infested  the  forests  in  those  early  days,  the  encounters 
with  the  Indians,  friendly  and  otherwise,  are  incidents  which  make  up  a 
book  which  will  fascinate  all  younjj  readers. — Siirt  Francisco  Bulletin. 

The  author  has  studied  her  subject  carefully;  and  the  pictures  of  this 
life,  extinct,  yet  still  blood  of  our  blood  and  bone  of  our  bone,  have 
unusual  interest. —  Chicago  Dial. 

Mrs.  Smith  has  proven  that  she  can  write  as  simple  and  natural  a 
story  of  child-life  when  the  scene  is  laid  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago 
as  when  she  chooses  to  describe  country  life  in  the  New  England  of  the 
present  century.  —  Christian  Register. 

6 


FROM  "THE  YOUNG  PURITANS  OF  OLD  HADLEY.' 


But  when  she  came  downstairs,  there  sat  the  Indians  toastiiu 
themselves  before  the  warm  fire." 


V 

THE   YOUNG   PURITANS    IN    KING    PHILIP'S  WAR. 
i6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.     $1.25. 

This  is  the  second  volume  in  "The  Young  Puritans  Series." 
The  author  has  made  a  very  careful  study  of  the  colonial  life  and 
history  of  the  time.  Like  the  first  volume  of  the  series,  her  attempt 
to  depict  the  life  of  Puritan  children  for  young  people  is  closely 
based  on  historical  facts.  These  volumes  should  be  read  carefully 
and  studied  by  the  children  of  to-day,  recounting,  as  they  do,  the 
hardships  endured  by  their  forefathers  and  foremothers  in  the  set- 
tlement of  this  country,  as  well  as  their  devotion,  high  aims,  and 
religious  zeal.  The  third  volume  of  the  series  will  be  devoted  to 
"The  Young  Puritans  in  Captivity." 

"This  story,"  says  the  author,  "continues  the  adventures  of 
'The  Young  Puritans  of  Old  Hadley,'  its  object  being  to  make  real 
to  young  readers  the  incidents  connected  with  King  Philip's  War 
in  the  Connecticut  Valley.  It  is  impossible  to  study  the  history 
of  this  period  without  strong  impressions  of  its  romance  and 
picturesqueness. 

"In  these  days  of  war  it  may  be  of  interest  to  see  how  war  was 
conducted  by  our  forefathers,  in  times  when  not  only  were  there 
no  railroads,  no  telegraphs,  no  rifles,  but  also  no  bridges,  no  roads 
save  Indian  footpaths  through  the  all-iurrounding  wilderness;  in 
fact,  all  of  what  are  regarded  essentials  in  modern  warfare  were 
lacking.  But  then,  as  now,  hearts  beat  high  with  heroism,  and 
brave  youths  were  prompt  to  do,  to  dare,  to  die  if  need  be,  for  home 
and  country." 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers.     Sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 
the  Publishers, 

LITTLE,   BROWN,   AND    COMPANY, 

254  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  068  298     9 


